


Well and Truly Lost

by BleuMorpho



Series: Fantastic Beasts - Selkie AU [3]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, M/M, Magical creatures exist but wizards and witches do not, Pirate AU, Selkie AU, Some descriptions of violence and blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-01-22 12:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 61,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21301853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleuMorpho/pseuds/BleuMorpho
Summary: A year after the events of "Empty Hearts on Open Oceans," Newt and Credence's personal paradise is disrupted by a summons from the US Navy, resulting in their deportation across the Atlantic Ocean to the heart of London. Without his passport and the freedom to travel the world, Newt finds himself trapped and powerless as his life continues to spin out of his control. Without the ability to escape into the sea whenever he wishes, Credence becomes lost in the bustle of the London streets and caught in the middle of a twisted scheme he doesn't even realize he's a part of.To make matters worse, a new threat hides in the shadows - but will they be able to recognize it before it's too late?A Pirate AU retelling of "Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald".
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Newt Scamander, Leta Lestrange/Theseus Scamander, Queenie Goldstein/Jacob Kowalski, Tina Goldstein/Newt Scamander
Series: Fantastic Beasts - Selkie AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/838134
Comments: 16
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1 - Queenie

** _July 29, 1927_ **

** **

Visual memories did not last forever – this much Queenie knew for certain.

The memories of her parents had quickly faded after their deaths, as Tina forced down her own innocence to take up the mantle of caregiver and sister all at once. But even though Queenie could only remember her mother’s kind smile and her father’s caring eyes through the lens of fading black and white pictures, one thing that she did remember from her youth was their nightly storytimes. She remembered sitting up in bed with Tina pressed against her side, a large book of fairy tales spread out over her mother’s lap as watercolor princesses and dragons danced around her mother’s imagination. She had always dreamed of becoming one of those princesses, to have a handsome prince ride across the flames of battle to defeat a terrifying beast and win her hand.

And indeed, after years of waiting and dreaming, her prince had finally appeared.

Jacob’s thoughts when he had first laid eyes on her were nothing she hadn’t heard before, but there had been a gentleness to them – a feeling of unworthiness that made her heart ache, a sense of awe for every little movement that she made. It was true that he wasn’t exactly what she had pictured as a little girl, but it took only a day to see that he was so much better than she could have ever imagined. Jacob saw her Legilimency as a gift, a talent, where overly protective Tina had always told her to hide it from everyone else – as if it were something to be ashamed of. He protected her, held her gently, and as the MACUSA sank beneath the ocean waves, all his thoughts were focused on her.

Once the storm had calmed, and the three of them landed onto New York soil once more, the first thing Queenie did was lie.

She explained the harrowing experience of a sudden storm catching even the veteran Captain Graves off guard to stone-faced officials, summoned (mostly) false tears of remorse for all of those poor souls unlucky enough to sink beneath the waves, and blushed as she reminisced her new beloved’s bravery in the face of such destruction. The two sisters and gentle baker had agreed to tell Admiral Seraphina Picquery that their finances had been scarce when they’d washed ashore on the Florida coast, and that they had been forced to leave poor Newt Scamander behind to ensure most of them got home to report the losses the US Navy had suffered. Their reports had been taken at face value, just as Jacob had predicted, and the fallen Captain Percival Graves had his picture mounted among so many others on the Wall of Honor in the lobby of the US Naval Headquarters in New York City.

The second thing Queenie did was accompany Jacob to the bank, watching with pride as he slammed a cotton sack filled with silver, broken eggshells and reeking of animal manure on a disgruntled banker’s desk.

She laughed with him as they ran down to see the building manager he’d been talking to before his mechanical work on the MACUSA had become a necessity. She fed him, encouraged him, building a golden palace inside her heart for them to live together as his dream slowly came to life before their very eyes. With two months, Kowalski Quality Baked Goods was established, filled to the brim with delicious pastries and colorful characters inspired by their adventures on the open sea.

The third thing Queenie did was let her guard down.

And that was when the walls of her gilded palace began to crumble.

Even she could admit that it hadn’t been very long, barely six months, when she overheard Jacob thinking about their wedding day. It had been an emotional time, one filled with so much happiness she had thought she would burst, and he promised between wet, sappy laughs that a ring was going to follow as soon as he got his finances all in order. Then Tina had kindly mentioned that there was paperwork to discuss – that a dress and a venue meant nothing without a certificate – and Jacob had happily followed her down to the nearest courthouse to inquire about the steps required in acquiring one.

She should have known that it was all too perfect, that everything she had yearned for would not come without a cost.

She should have remembered that dragons took on many forms.

“Alright, Miss Goldstein and Mister Kowalski,” the court official said with a groan, glancing down at the mysterious files he had gone to fetch from the back for their appointment. Jacob held Queenie’s hand in his own, his thoughts alight with joy and love for her. “Before we can get your license in order, there are a few things we need to go over first. Particularly with you, Miss Goldstein.”

Queenie’s smile faltered, and she forced herself to hide the sudden surge of panic creeping in at the edges of her happiness.

“I’m sorry, what things?” she asked. The official’s monotone voice echoed in double-time inside of her head, a worrying list of numbers and words too muddled for her to comprehend.

“Well, if I may be frank, there is the matter of your race to consider.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute!” Jacob growled, his smile vanishing behind a protective snarl in an instant. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be offensive, but I’m afraid there are very few ways to say it,” he responded. “As I’m sure you’re aware, Miss Goldstein, as a documented Nereid you have certain government privileges granted to you. Through your employment with the US Navy, you currently have a small, set monthly stipend for living expenses, full health coverage, and unlimited travel expenses paid and vouched across both country and state lines.”

“Y-yes, but what does that have to do with getting married?” she asked softly. She could feel Jacob’s anxiety mounting as each of her allowances were listed, and even before the official continued, she knew exactly what he was going to say next.

“Well, I’m afraid the Rappaport’s Law of Interracial Marriage clearly states that if the Human spouse makes a good amount of income that exceeds your current government benefits, all of those benefits will be revoked.” The official went back to his files, holding up a piece of paper the couple couldn’t see and squinting behind his reading glasses. “Mister Kowalski, I see that you recently opened your own business. Tell me, how much would you say you receive on a monthly basis, in terms of income?”

“Uh, maybe...probably $200, after all the business expenses?” Jacob said hesitantly. The official nodded, his expression somber.

“And Miss Goldstein receives $100 a month. This means that, if you two decide to marry, your assets would be deemed as Miss Goldstein's, and she would lose everything the government currently offers,” he explained.

“But why?” Jacob demanded, his anger a smoldering flame against the ice spreading through Queenie’s veins.

“I’m afraid the law is designed to support the non-Human individuals who have the most critical need, and it is assumed that Human spouses will make more income based on employment opportunities and demands.”

‘_Yeah, because Humans only hire other Humans unless they can help it_,’ Jacob thought bitterly. ‘_What a bunch of _–’

“Jacob, sweetie, language,” Queenie scolded softly, prompting a confused look from the official. She desperately pushed away her feelings of dread, repeatedly telling herself that there was no victory without perseverance and sacrifice. “Is there anything else that can be done? What sort of income would I receive if I kept my job at the Naval Headquarters?”

“Well, I’m afraid that would be entirely up to your supervisor. Once your benefits are canceled, they will have to accept the responsibility of providing you with a living wage, and that is up to their discretion if they want to do that.”

The walls of her imaginary palace shattered into rubble, dusted in the gold of broken dreams as she felt the last of her hope fade away. She had already taken extensive time off from her duties after they had arrived back in New York, claiming the experience had been too traumatic for her to return to work right away. It hadn’t been a total lie, for indeed she had no desire to get back onto a boat as quickly as her older sister did. However, she hadn’t considered what this would mean for her future.

For _their_ future.

What good was she, really, to the crews she sailed among? She was the entertainment, the errand girl, the pretty thing for the sailors to look at after so long away from their families and friends. Her absence would barely be felt, she was sure of it, and Admiral Picquery cared more about money than she did about some tag-along nymph at the bottom of her registries. Her job was only guaranteed now because of government mandates, Tina’s continued dedicated service, and the pity of those who had lost a large quantity of (at least in their eyes) good men.

“How long will this take to...to go into effect?” Jacob asked, and his voice was utterly defeated. The official shook his head, his face falling into a sympathetic grimace for the first time.

“A week? Maybe? Depending on how fast the paperwork is filed,” he said. “...I’m sorry.”

* * *

They walked to Jacob’s bakery in total silence – at least, in spoken silence.

The baker’s mind had been whirling with thoughts and worries nonstop since they left the courthouse empty-handed, problems and fruitless solutions looping over and over as he tried to find a loophole around a system designed to give them no real choice. Queenie tried and failed to block them out, feebly attempting to stitch her broken spirit back together with an empty needle and blind eyes. She barely remembered the happiness that had filled her heart that very morning, the elation that this day was going to end with happily ever after and nothing but Tina’s motherly concern to stand in her way.

Jacob held the door open for her, ever the gentleman, as they meandered into the apartment that resided over the bakery. The sweet smells of the freshly baked goods below the floorboards wafted through the air, his trusted employees hard at work so their boss could take some much-needed time off. Barely noticing that he was doing it, Jacob snatched up a plate from his simple kitchen and threw two Danishes onto the table between them as Queenie sat chewing her lip at the dining room table.

“Okay. Okay, okay, so we just put it off for a little longer!” he tried to say reassuringly. His hands waved through the air as his Danish was picked apart crumb by crumbly crumb. Queenie’s sat untouched, her appetite nonexistent. “We’ll keep doing what we’re doing, we’ll save every penny that we can, and once we have enough, we’ll – we’ll go back!”

“...and how long will that take?” she heard herself ask, her voice devoid of any its usual perkiness. “Five years? Ten? How long are we supposed to wait?”

“Queenie, sweetie, you know I love you more than anything, but…” he paused, abandoning his pastry to entwine his fingers together. “If you give up your job now, how will we pay for the wedding? How will we be able to provide for our children?”

Their children – _oh_, she could already see them. She could see how beautiful their children would be, how happy they would grow with their father’s compassionate heart and their mother’s spoiling love. She had always wanted the large family she and Tina had been denied, to pour everything she knew she had to give into being their entire worlds.

Hadn’t she waited long enough?

Hadn’t she suffered enough?

‘_I’m so tired of being alone. It’s not fair! **Why can’t I have this**?!_’

“We don’t need money,” she said, finally repossessing her weary body and staring at Jacob with newfound conviction. “I’ll get another job. I’ll – I’ll wash dishes, or I’ll work at one of those underground speakeasies –”

“Queenie –”

“Your bakery is the most popular spot on this side of New York! As long as it’s up and running, and as long as we have each other –”

‘_No._’

Queenie’s fevered assurances broke off as her voice caught in her throat. Jacob shook his head, reaching out for her hand and blinking in shock when she pulled away.

“What?” she whispered.

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“You said – you _thought_…”

“Honey, look, I just –” Jacob sighed as Queenie pushed herself out of her seat, her heels clicking on the wooden floors as she paced back and forth across the small room. “It’s just too risky! I know it’s not fair, but...Besides, why do we have to do this now? Let’s just use this time to get to know each other better, y’know? Grow closer.”

But Queenie barely heard him, her body shuddering with unfamiliar fear.

She wasn’t used to this, to have every little thing standing in the way of what she wanted. Tina had done her best to raise her properly, to give her the support and guidance that she needed all those years ago, but she had also rarely been able to resist anything that Queenie asked of her. The younger Nereid was keenly aware of her own beauty, and it had taken a long time for her to internalize that she had every right to use it against the men who thought such lewd things about her without even seeing her as a person. Years of unwilling practice and pain had resulted in a very calculated ability to use other people’s most secret thoughts to her advantage, to sway the world in her favor whenever she wished.

And now to have the man who had promised her the world on a silver platter deny her the same promise the moment things got tough.

“You said you loved me,” she gasped. Jacob rushed to his feet, running to her side with the beginnings of desperate tears in his eyes.

“I _do_ love you! I’ve never loved _anyone_ the way I love you!” he said.

“But not enough to marry me,” she said, hugging herself so tightly the fabric at her elbows creaked in protest. Jacob reached up and gently placed his hands on her forearms, the thoughts of the courthouse all but forgotten under jumbled reassurances of his devotion.

“I never said that. Course I want to marry you, I’d be stupid not to! But, Queenie...” he turned her to face him, gently brushing her frustrated tears away. “I’ve been there at the bottom. I know what it’s like to pray to a God you don’t even believe in that you’ll get something to eat that day. That you’ll make it just one more day, one more night, despite everything working against you.”

Dark, faded images of a blood-soaked battlefield filled their mental connection, then another of shaking hands holding a cold can of beans as a cloud of labored breath puffed up into the German air.

“Do you really want to bring our babies into that? Do you want to take that risk?” he asked. Queenie squeezed her eyes closed, trying to banish the horrible images from her mind and hold on to any semblance of hope she could find.

“You don’t know that’ll happen!”

“But what if it does?” Jacob gathered her into his arms, burying his face into her shoulder and squeezing tight. “I will do everything I can to make you happy. I promise. All I ask is that you be patient, just for a little while. Can you do that for me?”

Queenie untangled her arms and embraced her beloved in return, glaring at the nearest wall and the discolored stains lining the ceiling with a defeated sniff. She loved Jacob more than anything, too, and she knew that she would never find someone else like him. She understood his hesitation, admired his determination, and his love for her slowly melted the ice that had settled into her body.

But contrary to what people assumed of her, she was not a woman who stood idly by when she truly wanted something.

She wouldn’t let this minor setback keep her down.

She _would_ find another way to get what she wanted, and she wouldn’t take ‘_no_’ for an answer.


	2. Chapter 2 - Newt

** _November 2, 1927 _ **

‘_It’s fine. It’ll all work out. It’s fine. Nothing to worry about._’

Newt repeated the words in an endless loop inside his mind as the wind caressed his face and threw his hair up into disarray. The waves beneath his boat were calm, as they usually tended to be nowadays, and the sun was bright beyond the clouds as the towering landscape of New York stretched across the horizon. He hadn’t exactly been planning on returning to this particular destination with any haste, let alone in response to a rather stern summons by the Naval Council of the United States of America six months after his horrifying experience upon the USS MACUSA.

The summons had been followed closely by a short, yet undeniably concerned, letter from Tina warning him of the struggle to come – and he wasn’t looking forward to any of it.

“Newt?” The red-haired magizoologist blinked out of his silent daze, glancing away from the complex ladder of lines and wires surrounding him to acknowledge his companion’s sudden appearance.

To say that Credence had grown in leaps and bounds in the past few months would be an insulting understatement. The sea had been everything the Selkie needed to heal and more, lifting his spirit from the ashes and bringing out the most exhilarating changes to his personality that Newt had ever seen in a victim of prolonged abuse. Under Newt’s patient care, the young man had begun blessing him with gentle smiles and hesitant laughter that brightened with every passing day. The more conversations that they held, the more nights they spent curled up together in the same bed, the more Newt showed Credence of the world around them without striking him or causing him pain – it had all led to a comfortable, easy routine that they thrived upon as they sailed across the open ocean.

Now Credence emerged from the tiny cabin upon Newt’s sailboat wearing one of Newt’s largest work shirts and his most comfortable pair of trousers, his long black hair tied back in a loose tail that brushed against his shoulders.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, crawling on his hands and knees to recline beside the cockpit where Newt stood. Newt huffed a nervous laugh, against his better judgment, and focused on keeping his steering wheel nice and steady despite the lack of rough waves.

“Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?” Although he kept his eyes averted, the magizoologist could feel those powerful, dark eyes digging into his hidden expression. “Why do you ask?”

“Because your face is worried-looking.” Newt glanced at him at that, both unsurprised and mildly offended at the tiny, haughty smirk on the Selkie’s lips.

“I beg your pardon?!”

“...your face does this _thing_ when you’re worrying,” Credence said, contorting his legs up against his chest and resting his hands on top of his knees. “Your eyes start to squint more than usual, your face gets red and warm, and you go really quiet even when I try to talk to you.”

“It doesn’t – that’s not...do I really ignore you like that?” Newt stuttered in horror. Credence shrugged, his smile never faltering.

“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

“No, it’s not okay! That’s terrible!”

“You’re changing the subject,” Credence pointed out, his voice never raising and yet distinctly scolding nonetheless. Newt sighed, leaning up against the steering wheel and glaring at the skyscrapers drawing ever closer. “...is this about the letter you got before?”

“...yes. I told you what it said, didn’t I?”  
  


“Something about your old bosses throwing a fit over nothing,” Credence said hesitantly. Newt smirked, briefly, before nodding and jerking his head at the city.

“After we washed up in Florida, I sent the Goldsteins and Jacob back to New York without me. I didn’t want to go back, not so soon after...and then you joined me, and I wanted to show you everything I could and get Frank back to where he belonged and –”

“Newt.”

“— ah, sorry...I thought their reports about the wreckage would be enough, but apparently I was wrong,” Newt huffed, dragging a frustrated hand through his hair. “The letter basically said that they received an ‘_anonymous tip_’ that I was ‘_galavanting_’ around the coast and hadn’t made any attempts to check in with them, and that I needed to come back or else a warrant would be out for my arrest.”

“Arrest?! Why?” Credence cried, jumping to his feet with surprising speed and staring at Newt in unadulterated panic. Newt quickly switched hands on the wheel, using the other to reach out and cradle the Selkie’s cheek in his palm.

“Now, now, don’t do that. It’s fine! I’m not going to get arrested...I hope.”

“_Newt!_”

“I’ve already sent them a response telling them I’m on my way. They shouldn’t have any reason to throw me in jail,” he assured gently. Sadly, Credence did not seem assured in the slightest. “Look, you know how Humans are. They get their pants all in a twist over stupid things like paperwork and rules – and, well, you’ve seen how well I do with those.”

“What did Miss Tina say?”

“She said, and I quote, ‘_They are not happy with any of us, but you least of all. Get here as soon as you can, do everything they say, and try not to rile them up more._’ Translation: don’t act like me when I go to see them,” Newt explained. Credence turned his fierce gaze out into the sea, his eye growing hazy as he communicated with it in a way that Newt would never fully be able to understand. He waited patiently, knowing Credence needed time to process everything before he rejoined the conversation again.

It took much less time than it used to.

“Will they come for me?” he whispered emotionlessly. Newt moved his hand down to rest it on the Selkie’s shoulder, squeezing just enough to be comforting.

“Nobody knows that you’re alive except for me. I thought it best to ask your permission before divulging that information to anyone else – even Tina,” he said. “And besides, I doubt Grindelwald told anyone at Headquarters what you are. It would’ve blown his cover.”

“...so, what should I do? Stay on the boat?”

“If you like. I’m planning on taking my case with me, so that’s another option.” Credence considered this in silence, before leaning even closer to where Newt stood.

“Can I go in the case? I want to come with you,” he said, and Newt couldn’t have resisted his request even if he’d wanted to.

“Of course you can. Just don’t forget your pelt.”

* * *

There were vast amounts of habitats throughout Newt’s enchanted suitcase, all specifically tailored to the magical creatures dwelling within. With a simple determined thought, he had created open plains, rocky caves, and in a small corner nearest to his cabin, an expansive aquatic pool divided into sections. There was a deep freshwater section filled with seaweed and krill that housed a wounded Kelpie, a shallow lake filled with breeding Grindylows, and a recently added seawater grotto that Credence had designed for himself. The Selkie had been reluctant at first, lamenting that such a gift would be far too generous and wasteful of precious space on Newt’s part, before Newt had worn him down with the logic of keeping such a habitat in case of emergencies.

Considering their current predicament, it turned out to be the correct decision.

Credence assisted Newt in tying up the sailboat on the emptiest part of the New York docks, lowering the anchor and removing anything of personal value from the cabin. Once Newt had checked and double-checked that he had everything to his name safely tucked away inside his suitcase, he gently kissed Credence on the cheek, draped the Selkie’s pelt lovingly around his shoulders, and promised they would talk about the Council meeting later before sending him down to hide. It took a lot longer than he would have liked to find his way through the bustling crowds of New York to the Naval Headquarters, and even more time than he believed reasonable to find a secretary willing to assist him.

He was led to a familiar, dingy waiting area in a predominantly deserted hallway, where he was instructed to sit and be quiet until they came to get him. Newt sniffed in disdain once the secretary had sauntered far enough away.

As he waited, the minutes stretching endlessly into hours, he reflected on the first trip he’d taken to this very hallway almost one year ago. Back then, he’d had no true support system to speak of (with his creatures counted as a special exception), no real backup plan if his proposal was denied, and a simple goal to release one of his most precious friends back to the wild where he belonged. Now he had three friends who cared for him hiding among the faceless masses of this very city, a partner he grew to love more and more each day, and a world of possibilities open to the both of them to explore if only they could keep their heads above water.

‘_Is this what normal people feel like?_’ he had to wonder.

As his thoughts spiraled unchecked, a soft pittering and gentle tug on his wrist suddenly caught his attention. He raised his arm up to his line of sight, unsurprised to see Pickett dangling precariously from a loose button attached by a single thread on his favorite coat. He watched in amusement as the Bowtruckle twisted midair, only to fall head over branches as the thread snapped in half and sent both Pickett and the button skittering across the wooden floor. The button rolled across the hall and onto the red carpet in front of Newt’s feet.

A part of him wanted to simply let Pickett have his fun, to allow him to chase after his prize without competition.

But then the Bowtruckle glanced up at his face, a tiny glint of challenge in his beady black eyes, and Newt decided that they could both use an innocent distraction from the uncomfortable interaction to come.

Pickett moved first, chasing the button with as much speed as his tiny body would allow. Newt granted him the half-second head start, leaping up from his seat and throwing himself onto the ground directly in Pickett’s path. Disgruntled squeaks were his reward, and just as the Bowtruckle reached for the helpless button, Newt flattened his much larger hand on top of it and smirked in triumph at his tiny companion. Just as he was about to boast, all in lighthearted jest, the soft sounds of a woman’s heels upon the carpet approached his lowered head.

He looked up expecting an unamused employee, or perhaps Admiral Picquery herself.

Instead, he was shocked and appalled to see the smiling face of an old friend.

“Hello, Newt,” Leta said, her black irises and plump red lips seeming out of place among the drab, faded bricks of the walls around them. The beautiful Vampire was dressed as impeccably as ever, her dark skin smooth and flawless to the point of supernatural intimidation.

Newt quickly herded Pickett up into his hair, his eyes unable to break away from Leta’s amused gaze.

“Leta...what – what are you doing here?” The word ‘here’, of course, meant many things. Why was she in America, so far from home? Why was she in the US Naval Headquarters, where she certainly had no business of her own to attend to? But, unspoken beneath all those more superficial meanings, was the ultimate question he would never dare to voice aloud – why was she suddenly back in his life when she had made her choice years ago?

Whatever context she took from his words, her smile quickly vanished regardless.

“I’m afraid I’m here for you. As is Theseus,” she said. Newt glanced around the empty hallway, his already crippling anxiety even more uncomfortably heightened.

“Theseus is here? Why? What’s going on?” She raised her head as if to answer, only for her eyes to flick to the side and her frown to deepen. She turned around and walked down to the nearest doorway, her shoulders tense and strong.

“They’re ready for you,” she explained softly, no doubt using her enhanced hearing to eavesdrop on the officials beyond the door’s barrier. Newt swallowed his discomfort and grabbed his suitcase, encouraging Pickett to hide in the depths of his front pocket. As he came to stand beside her, the door swung open before them to reveal an even more familiar figure retreating out into the hallway.

Theseus was just as Newt remembered before he’s set out on his research venture. His dark suit was perfectly tailored, his brown hair coiffed and styled to impress, and a friendly smirk on his lips that toed the line between approachable and arrogant. He jumped when he realized that his fiancé and brother were standing directly in his path, and he quickly closed the door behind him before allowing himself to smile.

“Hello, brother.”

“Theseus,” Newt greeted unhappily. “I don’t suppose you can tell me why you’re both here?”

“You’ll find out here in a minute,” Theseus said with a sigh. “It’s not good, Newt, I should warn you.”

“...I suppose it’s best not to doddle, then,” Newt said defeatedly. Theseus’s lips thinned, his expression almost regretful, before nodding in agreement, smiling at Leta’s retreating form, and leading his little brother into the dark conference room without another word.

Three stern-faced middle-aged men sat on one side of the long conference table, three separate piles of documents resting at each of their arms. The tallest man in the center of the panel was ornately honored with multiple medals and fabric stripes of differing colors and designs, and the others were dressed in suits most definitely more expensive than anything Newt had purchased in his entire life – the personal sailboat currently floating in the harbor probably included. Theseus directed Newt to one of the empty seats sitting across from the panel, and it was only when both Scamander brothers were seated that the hearing commenced.

“Mister Scamander,” the decorated officer began, flipping open the file on top of his pile with a frown, “I trust that you know why we’ve summoned you here.”

“Uh, the letter stated that I was required to make a report about the MACUSA sinking,” Newt said. The officer nodded, but his expression was anything but satisfied.

“That is part of it, yes, but I’m afraid there’s a bit more to it than that,” he said. He nodded to the pale-skinned man to his left, who pulled out his own file and glanced at its contents.

“Mister Scamander, according to the contract drafted by Admiral Piquery and signed by you, you offered your services as a ‘Magical Creatures Expert’ for the crew of the USS MACUSA. Do you recall signing this contract?” he asked.

“W-well, yes, but it all happened rather fast, you see –”

“By signing this contract and agreeing to its terms,” the official interrupted, “you also agreed to become an employee of the United States Navy under a contractual basis. This means that you are held under the same expectations and duties assigned to all of our employees – including the expectation that any leave of absence will be properly requested, documented, and approved before it is taken by the employee.”

“...I’m sorry, are you...are you saying that I’m considered a _deserter_?” Newt demanded, his voice raising in both volume and octave against his will as the full implications of their words became apparent. Theseus subtly cleared his throat and leaned forward to place both hands on the table in front of them, giving Newt a different target for his attention and thus a chance to gather himself.

“Unfortunately, Mister Scamander, that is exactly what we are saying,” the officer said. He weaved his fingers together and leaned back into his chair, his expression softening by the slightest degree. “Now, usually, taking an unauthorized absence would result in jail time and most likely a fine. However, there have been multiple references submitted in your defense of these matters.”

“Yes, we have three separate appeals, filed by a Jacob Kowalski, a Porpentina Goldstein, and a Queenie Goldstein, respectively,” the third man finally spoke up. “They have been quite vocal about your innocence, and have sworn under oath that none of you were aware of your employment status with us. Your brother, here, has also filed an appeal and has formally vouched for your integrity and innocence of any wrongdoing – at least knowingly.”

Newt bit his tongue against the growing scream of anxiety and sigh of relief warring for dominance within his throat. On the one hand, being thrown in jail or otherwise punished could mean the forced separation (and, thus, the possible death) of some of the more dependent creatures within his care. Not to mention his promises to Credence on so many occasions that he would not abandon him if he could help it, and being carted away for his own stupidity would certainly qualify as such a breach of promise.

On the other hand, the fact that his new friends and brother would go to such great lengths to protect him warmed his heart in ways he had never experienced before.

“Furthermore, there is the issue of your...traumatic experience to consider.”

“Yes. We understand that being one of only four survivors of such a terrible storm is not a matter to be taken likely,” the officer said with a sigh. His expression darkened as he regarded Newt with something resembling the barest bones of sympathy. “I myself have seen quite a few ships go down. It changes a man, and I won’t deny that I could sympathize with the desire to run away from such atrocities – especially if you’re not a trained military officer.”

“Your sympathy is appreciated, Admiral, truly,” Theseus spoke up suddenly. The attentions of each man shifted in an instant, as though they had forgotten the respected investigator was even in the room. “That being said, I have to ask what these appeals and understanding all amount to? What exactly needs to be done, here?”

“Well, Inspector, there is only so much we _can_ do. But, in the spirit of compromise, we have a proposition.”

Newt glanced at Theseus warily, but his brother only glanced at him briefly before nodding to the panel to show that he was listening.

“Mister Scamander, we will not file any criminal charges, and we will remove your name from the official registry as a deserter. However, in exchange, you will be deported back to England effective immediately, your vessel repossessed as collateral for your fines by this office, and a request to the British Consulate that your passport be revoked.”

“What?!” Newt gasped in horror.

“Newt!” Theseus growled gently, but the three men before them were unfazed.

“I’m afraid the alternative is to be summoned to court on charges of treason, Mister Scamander. And if I may be frank, here in America, we do not take kindly to deserters – not even innocent ones,” the main officer said. “This way, you are at least released into your brother’s custody and escorted back home without much fanfare. If you wish to oppose the travel ban this deal places on you, you’ll have to take that up with your own people.”

Newt felt his entire body shake as the cold dread he had been fighting for so long began to overwhelm him. His passport was his lifeline, his key to traveling the world and doing all that he could for the magical creatures that lived out there. Moreover, his home base was a small, unassuming Victorian townhouse in the heart of London.

What sort of monster would he be if he dragged Credence away from his home even more than he already had? How would the poor Selkie survive, locked away behind Human walls without an easy means to escape if he suffered a setback?

What other choice did he have?

“Newt?” Theseus asked softly. The magizoologist swallowed the beginnings of a panic attack, clenching his fists so fiercely that it hurt. He glanced up at his brother’s worried gaze, his shoulders slumping even further in pitiful defeat.

“I think the answer’s obvious, don’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos keep me inspired and happy, so please feel free to leave some kind words behind!


	3. Chapter 3 - Credence

Credence leaned over the rocky edge of the Kelpie’s enclosure, idly weaving his fingertips through the black water’s surface as the greasy bulrushes of the creature’s mane floated a few feet away. Newt had warned him not to get too close to the Kelpie at first, only to stand in stunned, silent awe as Credence carried on a full conversation with the magical creature with no hesitation or difficulty. After that, Credence had slowly begun to introduce himself to each of the creatures of the suitcase in turn, and Newt had trusted him with a list of duties he could perform around the habitats to help care for his charges more efficiently.

The Kelpie was one of Credence’s closest companions besides Newt and the Niffler. It reminded the rescued Selkie of himself in his youth, full of unbridled energy and a naive outlook of the world beyond the water. The Kelpie had warmed up to Newt after some coaxing on Credence’s part, but remained convinced that it was far more powerful and invincible compared to the weak beings that hunted it out of fear and disgust.

It was a foolish assumption, one that Credence had learned to abandon after so long under Graves’ – _no_ – Grindelwald’s thumb.

As the hours of the afternoon rolled by, Credence wandered from corner to cramped corner of the expanded suitcase and checked over every animal twice. He refilled the water bins where needed, played with the baby Nifflers despite Newt’s warnings not to indulge them too much, and overall did everything in his limited power to keep his boredom at bay. It was not common for him to take issue with boredom – for an abundance of sloth and leisure were practically programmed into his body by his very nature, and it was far too easy to slip into a basking nap even in the absence of any sunlight. On this day, however, he was also extremely worried for Newt, and that worry chased away even the most persistent of fatigue with stunning efficiency.

As the Kelpie continued to float aimlessly among the seaweed of its enclosure, Credence was suddenly bombarded with a distant symphony of crashes and angry voices coming from the depths of Newt’s cabin. Instinctively, he clutched the dark seal pelt draped around his shoulders in a relentless grip.

“Credence!” Newt’s voice called, hoarse and panicked in a way that sliced through the Selkie’s fear and pushed his soul beneath the numbness of protective anger. He marched up to the cabin steps, fully prepared to rain dark, magical wrath upon whatever unfortunate soul had dared to hurt his freckled-faced savior, when said savior burst through the doorway and almost fell face-first into the dirt. “Oh, there you are!”

“What’s wrong?” he demanded harshly, and his fury only burned hotter when Newt did not immediately set his mind at ease. The magizoologist was undeniably agitated, his eyes darting about without focus and his body tense.

“Um, remember how I said I wasn’t going to get arrested?” he asked with a grimace. Credence stilled at Newt’s defeated tone, clinging to his pelt for dear life. “Well, I was half right. They won’t send me to prison, but…”

“Newt?” he gasped.

“They’re sending me back to England, Credence.” The words were said in a rush, his eyes clenched shut and his face turned down toward the ground. “I don’t have any choice in the matter.”

The sounds of the Kelpie swimming in the water behind him faded under a high-pitched white noise inside of Credence’s ears.

Newt was being sent away.

_Newt was going to be taken away from him._

“They’re going to revoke my passport, too, which means I won’t be able to travel for quite some time. They’re not giving me much time to get my affairs in order, but I’ve convinced Theseus that I need to stop by the docks before we go.” Newt reached out to him slowly, carefully, cradling his stunned face in between his hands and staring at him with tears in his eyes. “Credence...where I live, it’s quite a ways to the nearest ocean, and it’s almost always packed with Humans. It won’t be safe for you there.”

“You...want me to stay behind?” Credence managed to whisper, the soft pelt that housed his spirit crumpled painfully in his shaking fist.

‘_No. No, no no nonono!_’

“What I want –” The redhead’s expression contorted in pain, fighting and failing to push down his distress as he leaned his forehead against Credence’s. “What I want...is for you to be happy. I want you to have the best life that you can. That’s all I have ever wanted.”

“My best life is with you!” Credence said desperately, flinging his pelt away and wrapping his arms desperately around Newt’s torso. Molten fear melted away the walls he so often hid behind, sending a tidal wave of childish pleas out of his mouth and into the folds of Newt’s shirt. “Please don’t send me away! I’ll do whatever you want! Please!”

“Credence, darling, I –”

“I’ll stay in the suitcase! It’ll be enough!” he cried. Newt shook his head, pulling Credence close with all his might and yet still denying him the assurances he so deeply desired.

“No, it won’t. You need the sea to survive, Credence, not a cheap imitation. There’s no way around that.” He buried his face into the Selkie’s dark tresses, his breathing labored and pained. “You know I want to be with you, you have to know that. But I can’t take you away from your home. It would just be another prison.”

“No, it wouldn’t, because it’s _my_ choice!” Credence unburied himself from Newt’s embrace and pulled him into a desperate kiss. It wasn’t unusual for them to engage in physical intimacy, though certainly not in a manner this sloppy or primitive, but Credence found himself unable to care about the mess they made. “You’re my home, not the sea. I want to be with _you_. Take me with you! Please, Newt!”

“Credence,” Newt sighed, clearly trying to fight his own selfish desires for Credence’s sake.

It was something Newt was very skilled at doing, but Credence would not sit by and let them be torn apart. Not this time.

“Captain Graves kept me locked away for five years, Newt,” he murmured, forcing himself to keep speaking through the pain of rekindled memories and nightmares. “I can take only going for a swim once a month.”

“Once a week,” Newt demanded, his shoulders already drooping under the weight of Credence’s stubborn resistance to reason. “And you need to tell me if you’re hurting!”

“I’ll promise if you promise to take me with you.”

They stood in heavy silence for a long, tense moment, with Newt searching Credence’s face for any sign of hesitation or regret. He had been extremely careful never to step upon the Selkie’s personal boundaries, patiently waiting for Credence to come to him in every regard to their relationship without any pressure to do so. Now he searched for truth, for conviction, and Credence was determined to give it to him.

“Once we go, I can’t bring you back,” Newt warned softly. Credence shook his head, burying his fingers into Newt’s wild tresses and allowing his lips to curl up into a reassuring smile.

“Why would I want to leave? I have everything I need right here.”

* * *

It took a while for Credence to calm down after the sudden burst of adrenaline and dread that had consumed him, and he decided it was best for his health to spend the next few hours curled up in a tattered blanket that smelled the most like Newt in the farthest corner of the tiny cot they shared in the cabin. Newt had tried to explain what the next steps were in their deportation – the paperwork, the sailboat they had spent so many months calling their home being ripped away, the large passenger fleet they would have to board across the Atlantic – but inevitably they had run out of time, and the redhead had been forced to leave Credence alone once more. He’d also promised to introduce the Selkie to Theseus, whom Newt had revealed was his older brother come to claim him, once they were safely away from any prying eyes of the US Navy.

Now that he had the time to reflect, to actually think about what his life was going to be after this day was done, Credence found that he really didn’t have any other choice available to him.

He supposed it had been foolish to assume that their life of freedom upon the sea was anything but temporary. Unlike Credence, Newt had a family and friends that he would need (and want) to visit occasionally, as well as the responsibilities that came with being an expert in his field of study. They would have had to visit his home country eventually, and Credence wanted nothing less than Newt sacrificing the life he had built for himself just to make the Selkie happy.

But what was the alternative? To go back to the emptiness of the ocean, the silence pressing in from all sides and weighing him down into despair? To let go of the one being who tried to understand him? To throw that beautiful light in a world of unjust darkness back into the void, never for him to hold to his heart again?

No.

No, he couldn’t bear that. He would die if Newt left him now.

If he had to bite his tongue and stay locked away in a magical suitcase, if he had to suffer just a little to stay by Newt’s side, then he would gladly do it.

The day transitioned into the night without his conscious notice, his self-imposed exile into the corner of their bed a fitting place to exist in total silence. He moved only when he heard the lid of the case being opened, a soft murmuring of whispers and questions following the magizoologist’s distinctive steps down the ladder. He untangled himself from his nest of blankets, smoothing out his long mane of curls and forcing his legs to take him to his inevitable fate.

“Hello,” Newt greeted softly, reaching out for Credence to walk into his arms if he so chose. The Selkie didn’t hesitate, burying his face into Newt’s collar and sighing with relief. “How are you?”

“Better, now that you’re better,” he said. Newt chuckled, a soft and broken thing, as he ran his finger through the ends of Credence’s hair. “What’s happening upstairs?”

“We’re on a boat. Full of people, and way too cramped,” Newt groused. He gently pulled away and made a valiant effort to maintain eye contact while he asked Credence a clearly uncomfortable question. “I know this is a lot to ask of you, but...my brother is getting rather annoying to deal with. I was wondering if I could introduce you, and…well, you’re better at small talk than I am.”

“Not by a lot,” Credence denied with a small smirk. Still, he had been forced to interact with Humans on a rather small boat for five straight years, and one did not survive such imprisonment without learning a thing or two. “Is he nice?”

“Oh, yes, he won’t be cruel to you, of that I’m certain. People tend to prefer him to me…” Newt paused, as though thinking about this statement for the first time. “Actually, maybe it’s not such a good idea for you to meet him.”

“Stop it,” Credence said, reaching up to give Newt a deep, reassuring kiss on the lips. “Most Humans are boring. You’re special.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!” Newt gasped. They smiled at one another before Credence glanced pointedly at the open portal leading to the outside world. The magizoologist sighed in wordless agreement, cradling Credence’s hand in his own as they climbed the tiny stairs up and out of the comfort of their sanctuary.

The Scamander family resemblance was striking. Theseus’s hair was darker than Newt’s, but it curled and weaved against his head just the same. They shared a similar nose and mouth, but where Newt’s eyes were bright and curious and full of light, his brother’s were a sharper, darker shade of blue – like an oncoming storm across the distant sea. More than that, when Newt looked at Credence, it was as if he were something precious and wonderful to behold.

There was certainly a curiosity there when Theseus first laid eyes on the young Selkie, but his gaze was also filled with a frightened suspicion he was far too familiar with.

“Newt, who is this?” he asked, watching his brother pull the new arrival gently up to his feet.

“Theseus, this is Credence. Credence, this is my brother, Chief Inspector Theseus Scamander,” Newt said. Credence swallowed against the nervous lump in his throat, raising his eyes just long enough to nod a wordless greeting to the suddenly jumpy man.

“You had a stowaway in there?! Why didn’t you tell me?” Theseus demanded, his hands flying up to bury into his hair.

“He’s not a stowaway, Theseus, he’s my partner!” Newt growled, showing a rare aggressiveness fueled by his protective nature. It was rare to see him so easily fired up, and it made a deep, secret corner of Credence’s heart flicker with pride and heat. “He lives with me.”

“Your – You have a –” Theseus looked back and forth between them, as if he needed physical evidence to believe such claims to be true. Credence took a deep breath, willing himself not to be self-conscious in front of what was essentially a total stranger, and wrapped a firm hand around Newt’s folded elbow.

Theseus glanced at the gesture with a frown, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets and regarding the pair with a condescending expression of forced patience.

“Alright. Say I believe you. That doesn’t change the fact that you have a passenger – American, I’m assuming? – being smuggled into our country _illegally_ while you are being heavily watched by both the US and Royal Naval Forces!” he scolded quietly. Newt tensed at Theseus’s harsh tone, and Credence had no intention of letting that go.

“I’m a Selkie,” he said bluntly, causing Newt to look at him in unmistakable panic.

“Credence!” he hissed, but he quickly sealed his lips when Credence gave him a firm look in return. He turned back to glare at the now blinking Inspector, his inner fire thoroughly stoked.

“Under your Human laws, I am not considered a person. Therefore, Newt can’t be guilty of anything you’ve said. But even if he was, are you a brother or a policeman first?” he asked. Theseus opened his mouth, left it hanging for a few uncomfortable seconds, and then closed it without responding. Newt stood stiff and still, waiting to see where this unexpected tension would lead them.

Thankfully, the decision was taken out of everyone’s hands.

“Boys, I brought you some –” A beautiful woman with dark skin and even darker eyes walked through the creaking door of their small cabin, carrying a tiny plate of sausages and bread as she gracefully stopped to assess the scene before her. A prickle of hazzy familiarity sprung to life in the back of Credence’s mind as he took in her curious face, wondering where he had seen her before and worried how she would respond to his sudden presence. “Oh! Hello. Who might you be?”

“Uh, Leta, this is Credence. Credence, Leta Lestrange,” Newt introduced quickly, and placing the name alongside the face made everything click.

So this was Leta Lestrange.

He had seen her picture many times, sitting in plain sight on the table leading out into the habitats. Credence had asked Newt about her identity only once, receiving a closed-off explanation of their childhood friendship and a worrying assertion that it wasn’t important anymore. Barely a single day after, Credence had noticed the picture removed from sight and stowed away to an unknown location within the cabin, and he hadn’t the heart or the courage to ask Newt about it again.

“Nice to meet you, Credence,” Leta said with a gentle smile, her eyes taking in his submissive posture and lowered gaze with an unnerving amount of focus.

“Newt was just informing me that Credence is his _partner_,” Theseus explained with a frown. Leta blinked in shock, absentmindedly placed her plate on top of the bottommost bunk bed, and smiled just enough to reveal two elongated fangs hidden behind her plump lips.

“R-really? Newt, that’s wonderful!” She clearly meant for the sentiment to sound excited, encouraging, but Credence couldn’t help but feel that there was the slightest hint of disappointment hiding behind her words. Newt shifted his weight from foot to foot, his prior tenacity all but vanished after Leta’s sudden appearance.

“I think so. Credence has been very patient with me,” he said, and Credence could have sworn his cheeks tinted the slightest shade of pink. The Selkie’s lips curled up and gently leaned their shoulders together.

“Most of the time. It’s nice to meet you, Miss Lestrange,” he said, and he was immensely proud of himself when he didn’t flinch back from Leta’s approach and outstretched hand.

“Oh, call me Leta, please!” she said, lovingly cradling his hand in both of her own as she shook it. He was shocked at how cold her fingers felt, despite her warm presence. “After all, you’re already a part of the family.”

Credence didn’t know how to respond to that. He had never really wondered what it would be like to become a member of another’s family, especially when his kind were wandering and solitary by nature. The mangled, restrictive family he had been forced into during his capture had been anything but loving, and even in the beginning, he had known it wasn’t what true family was supposed to be. And yet here, now, a seemingly kind woman he had never met was welcoming him to experience this phenomenon that Humans repeatedly placed such importance on without any obvious conditions.

He had to wonder, however, if she was telling the truth or just being friendly.

“I still don’t like that you kept him hidden from us, Newt,” Theseus suddenly spoke up, contorting himself to sit on the bottom bunk and claiming a sausage for himself. “You could have at least warned me.”

“Oh, leave him be, Dear. There were a lot of stresses going on,” Leta said with a frown. She turned to Newt, who was still engaged in a fierce battle of eye contact warfare with the wooden planks beneath their feet. “By the way, we’ve tried our best to keep your house in order, so it should be ready for the two of you to move in.”

“You have a house?” Credence asked, genuinely shocked and pleasantly surprised.

“Of course. I have to have a home base, after all,” Newt explained with a smile. Credence smiled back, comforted by the realization that he would have much more room to move about than he originally expected. “It’s not much, but...it should be comfortable, at least.”

“What about –” Theseus cut himself off, glancing pointedly at Credence before raising his eyebrows in Newt’s direction. Leta’s expression showed that she knew she was being excluded from something, but Credence was surprised when she remained quiet and waited to be brought back into the conversation with effortless dignity.

“We have a tentative plan,” Newt said hesitantly. “There’s more we’re going to have to discuss, but...we wanted to stay together.”

Credence felt the aftershocks of his earlier panic resonate through his chest, and he silently rubbed his cheek against the fabric of Newt’s shoulder in an effort to settle his nerves. Newt allowed him his childish actions without comment, and after a moment’s calculated silence, Theseus’s resigned yet distinctly accepting voice cut through the air.

“Alright then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you see, don't forget to comment and leave some kudos! :)


	4. Chapter 4 - Newt

It only took about four days to travel across the Atlantic, and despite the initial frustration on his brother’s part, Newt found a comforting relief in just how quickly Theseus and Leta had accepted Credence into their circle. The Selkie was slow to engage and took a while to warm up to Theseus after their initial disagreement, but overall seemed much quicker to speak with them than he would have been a year prior. He still slept in the depths of the case, helping Newt with their daily care routines and maintenance of the habitats, but Newt also tried to get them some alone time on the top decks of the ship.

At first, he’d toyed with the idea of letting Credence bring his pelt along whenever they joined the rest of the Humans on board, but they had both agreed it probably wasn’t worth the risk of theft or loss.

“I’m sorry to do this to you,” he said on the second day, and not for the last time. Credence glanced at him curiously, leaning against the railing and letting the cool ocean air rushing against his face.

“Do what?”

“Not giving you more time to…” he left the rest of the sentence fade away, but he needn’t have said it anyway.

“Newt, we’ve been over this. I want to come with you,” Credence sighed. Newt shook his head, watching the waves dance in the distance.

“That’s not what I meant.” He gathered himself, trying to find the right words and determined to be as honest with his lover as he could be in such uncertain circumstances. “When I found out what had happened to you, I swore to give you the freedom you deserved. Unbound, unchained...I wanted so badly to give you the world, Credence...and now, I can’t help but feel that I’ve failed you.”

“Newt…” The magizoologist refused to tear his eyes away from the endless abyss before them, fully admitting to his own weakness and yet being far too afraid to face it. Credence unfolded his arms and stood to his full height, his expression growing somber and unrelenting. “Can I say something, and you won’t be angry?”

“Of course.”

“...I wouldn’t want the world, even if you gave it to me,” he hissed softly. Newt tensed and watched the Selkie’s body language carefully, knowing the unfathomable power that hid beneath the facade of pale skin and bone. “This world is cruel and full of horrible, selfish people. Even before I was...we’re trained from birth to stay away from Humans, even though we can’t always help it. We’ve been captured far too many times, and too many of us have died for stupid, useless reasons.

“After Captain Graves stole me, I thought to myself, ‘_how could I have been so stupid? Why did I think that this Human would be any different from the ones from the stories?_’ I thought that way for a long time...”

Newt bit his tongue against the flood of fury and grief that stabbed at his heart. To imagine all of the horrible things Credence had experienced and lived through – it was beyond painful and sad. He tried to stay strong, tried to keep his treasonous tears at bay, but Credence’s next words shattered his inner strength like fist through a cracked window.

“And then I met you, and everything I thought I knew got all tangled up again.” The Selkie’s frown lessened in its intensity, his righteous anger falling away to reveal something much more vulnerable and afraid. “And sometimes, sometimes I wonder when you’ll turn on me, still. Even though I want to believe you won’t...I can’t help it. I think, ‘_this can’t be real. It isn’t possible. Humans are evil._’ And then, you smile at me and hold me and worry about me, even though you hate to worry, and I feel so _guilty_ for ever doubting you.”

Credence turned away from the comforting disinterest of the sea to stare into Newt’s burning eyes, his tears falling unrestrained down his crumpled expression and dripping off his chin.

“Selkies aren’t supposed to do that, Newt! We’re not supposed to feel guilt like that! I shouldn’t be able to hate you and love you at the same time!”

Newt reached for him and pulled the Selkie’s shaking body into the depths of his coat, wrapping him up in all of the warmth and protection he could provide. His own tears fell in silent trickles, lost in the depths of Credence’s hair as he buried his helpless sobs into Newt’s chest. A small part of him was thankful that the upper decks were so secluded this time of day, giving them privacy as Credence fought to keep his devastating powers from tearing the ship apart. Already, Newt could feel the beginnings of rain in the air, the once bright blue skies completely obscured by rolling clouds of dark, magical emotion.

Credence had been so, so strong for far too long. Newt couldn’t even blame him for being so angry, so confused and lost when he’d spent so many years of his young life constantly wondering if there would ever be an end to his torment. To see him have faith in Newt, even when he’d made such a devastatingly careless mistake that could spell out an unpleasant future for the both of them, made him all the more determined to be worthy of that faith.

“I don’t want freedom anymore. I don’t want to go back – I _can’t_!” Credence’s muffled voice sobbed. “I’m too different. I don’t belong there anymore. I belong with you...I’m sorry.”

“Oh, darling, you don’t have to be sorry,” Newt said soothingly. “You can hate me all you want, and I will still care about you, anyway. I think I belong with you, too, and I quite like the idea of that.”

Credence wrapped his arms around Newt’s back beneath the shelter of the coat, shaking his head but unable to speak around his labored breathing.

“How does this sound? We’ll move into my house, get everything all set up, and we’ll take every day as it comes,” Newt proposed. “Whenever you want to go to the beach, we’ll drop everything and go. When you want to take some time away from me, you can. When you want to be close to me, you can. And if you never want to be around other Humans, then that’s fine, too – I certainly wouldn’t blame you in the slightest.”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” Credence murmured.

“You are not a burden, Credence,” he said firmly. “Your feelings and desires are just as valid as mine. And my home is going to be your home now, too, so don’t ever think you’re not welcome there.”

They had gone quiet and subdued after that, but there was an undeniable weight that had been lifted from both of their shoulders once they had calmed down and gone back inside the depths of the ship. Newt stopped seeing their forced relocation as a prison sentence, and more of an opportunity to show Credence that they could be happy together for a long while. He allowed himself to imagine what their house could become, of the life they could begin to build, and he couldn’t help but feel grateful for the second chance he had been given in spite of its restrictions.

Credence, meanwhile, seemed to have taken Newt’s acceptance of his darker feelings toward Humanity and his occasional doubts of Newt’s intentions as a form of blessing of his own. He still curled up into himself when he was surrounded by other bodies and an abundance of noise, but he didn’t keep as much distance from Newt as he had before. Instead, he almost thrived on being in the same room as Newt, even if they were not within touching distance of one another.

Newt had to wonder just how afraid of the magizoologist’s rejection the poor man had been – to have kept his rightfully-earned anger and hatred so deeply suppressed that Newt wouldn’t see it and turn away.

Leta also noticed the minute change, even if she had no idea what had caused it, and made a point of sitting with Credence and regaling him with stories about her and Newt’s days at school. Because Newt had refused to talk about her much, the fact that she was a Vampire came as quite the shock to his Selkie companion. However, where most would have shunned Leta out of hand, Credence willingly shared his own magical heritage and did his best to make her feel accepted – an act both Newt and Theseus visibly encouraged and cherished.

The last days of their journeys went by rather uneventfully, which was a rare blessing in the world of magical creature care, but Newt’s peaceful reprieve quickly fell into a nest of chaotic turmoil as soon as the coast of England came into view. He’d been able to stop himself from thinking (and therefore worrying) about the inevitable fate of his precious passport, but no amount of reassurances and loving embraces from all three members of his small circle could save his already fragile optimism.

He forced himself to smile as Credence retreated into the safety of the suitcase. He forced himself to say he was fine when Leta looked at him with sickening sympathy and concern. He forced himself to accept what was to come as he stepped off the gangplank and greeted the three stone-faced officers waiting for him in front of Customs.

The paperwork was all in order, all officially branded and signed by higher powers he couldn’t fight. They removed his ability to travel without fanfare or hesitation, declaring him under metaphorical house arrest for the indefinite future. They ripped his passport from his hands and threw it into a box, never to see the light of day again so long as he remained a threat to rules and Human constructs.

They sent him on his way with a warning not to try anything underhanded or illegal, and Theseus wisely kept his mouth tightly shut as he escorted Newt back to the small estate he was forced to call home.

He’d never been one to flaunt his family’s wealth and prestige, but Newt had also never seen the point of squandering what his parents had lovingly set aside for him since the day of his birth. A respectable trust fund allowed him to travel safely while still maintaining a monthly housing payment, and so he had no difficulty fetching the keys from the dusty depths of his coat pocket and walking right inside. The townhouse was a simple, yellow brick Victorian, separated from his neighbors by a well-maintained meter of grass and fully stocked with all of the essentials thanks to Leta and Theseus’s efforts. The furniture was simple and comfortable, nothing he had ever used with any frequency, and the lights bathed the blank walls in a homely shade of gold as he set his suitcase down in the center of the living room rug.

“The milk might be a bit old, but everything else should still be alright,” Theseus said. Newt ignored him, not unkindly, and called down the magical portal for Credence to join them. “We weren’t expecting you to bring a friend, so the guest room isn’t as clean as it could be.”

“We won’t be needing it,” Newt said over his shoulder, and he hid his satisfied smirk at the soft choking sound his brother made in response. Credence emerged from the case with a timid smile, accepting Newt’s steady hand as he took in the cozy living quarters with curious eyes.

“You’ll come to dinner with us sometime, won’t you, Newt?” Leta asked suddenly, her tone both casual and expectant. “I haven’t made that shepherd's pie you like so much in a while. We’d love to have you – both of you.”

Credence’s cheeks tinted a pretty shade of pink as he smiled at her, slowly exploring the room and running gentle fingertips over every surface he could reach without being too obvious. Newt watched him take it all in with affection, knowing what was dull and dreary to him was a place of wonder and significance for the young Selkie. He closed the suitcase and moved it to the sofa, finally turning to face his waiting brother and future sister-in-law.

“Uh, I’ll, uh – We’ll see. We might need a few days to adjust,” he tried to say politely, but Leta and Theseus knew him too well to be fooled. Leta did not try to hide her disappointment, while Theseus shook his head with raised brows and a knowing grin.

“Well, I suppose we might as well get out of your hair, then.” Despite knowing he should have seen it coming, Newt tensed up and stood uncomfortably still when his brother reached forward to bring him into a tight hug. “Please try not to get into trouble...again.”

“I’ll do my best,” Newt whispered back and forced himself not to sigh in relief when Theseus pulled away. Leta chose not to invade his personal space, turning instead to Credence and taking his scarred hands into her own.

“I’m so glad I got to meet you, Credence. If you need anything, you let us know,” she said with a fangy smile. The Selkie nodded, his eyes unable to meet hers in spite of his apparent pleasure at being so accepted.

“Thank you. It was nice to meet you.”

“Take good care of my brother, Credence. I know it’s a big undertaking, but I’m sure you’ll do just fine!” Theseus teased. The inspector gently tapped the back of Credence’s shoulder as he moved toward the front door, holding out his free arm for Leta to grasp onto. The happy couple departed, leaving the two men in peace to try and put their lives back together.

A part of Newt wanted to grab his suitcase and rush down into the basement without any further delay, but the way Credence’s face lit up as he moved from the sitting room into the kitchen pulled him along as though by magic. The Selkie turned on every light, explored every nook and cranny, and even the distressing holes in the walls and scratches on the wooden surfaces couldn’t make his grin falter.

Even with his enthusiasm in full effect, however, it didn’t take long for him to fill the heavy silence that had fallen around them.

It was the one thing Newt actively disliked about this place – it was far too quiet.

“This is your home,” Credence whispered.

“It’s _our_ home, if you like,” Newt corrected gently. Credence glanced at him in hopeful confusion, his hands never wavering in their exploration. It was as if he couldn’t believe the things before him were real, as if they would suddenly disappear the moment he turned his utmost attention away from them. “My life is in my suitcase. And the basement, but mostly the suitcase.”

“You don’t like it here?” Credence asked with a worried frown. Newt shrugged, looking around at the functional space with a sense of grateful disinterest.

“It’s a good place to settle down in, but I don’t usually like to settle down for long. I’ll have to now, of course,” he grumbled. He gave the Selkie a rueful grin, leaning against the doorframe and wondering how long they would be able to survive here. Credence reached out to prod at the bowl of apples on the dining room table, his smile now a shadow of its former self.

“...I’ve never been inside a house before. We always stayed on the MACUSA, and when we docked...I wasn’t exactly welcome to stay with all the others, so..._she_ locked me in my room until we were ready to leave again,” Credence said. Newt swallowed against the guilt clogging his words, pushing himself off of the rickety door frame and over to where Credence stood. “I’m okay. I just...I wanted you to know that I like it, even though I don’t have anything to compare it to.”

“As long as you’re here with me, and our creatures are happy and healing,” Newt said as he pulled Credence close, “I don’t care where we live. This house is as good as any.”


	5. Chapter 5 - Credence

Credence was a Selkie, and while his kind shared many characteristics and habits with all the other seals of the world, there were some very keen differences between them. Selkies were more nomadic, preferring to travel and hunt alone rather than in herds for most of their lives, and thus did not feel the biological need to find, mark, or protect territory. Even in the mating season, which he never got the opportunity to participate in before Captain Graves stole his pelt, their courtships were more similar to Human behaviors than seals.

All of this had been ingrained into Credence’s mind since he was a pup, which was why it was so shocking that a chain reaction of what he could only describe as biological madness began the day after they moved into Newt’s house.

It was little things at first – running his hands over every new piece of furniture he came across, sitting in every chair or bed Newt possessed, or just walking from room to room to ensure he knew the layout of the entire residence inside and out. Sadly, things quickly began to escalate, and by the time he realized just how erratically broken his pattern of behavior had become, he was rubbing the scent of his cheek over every towel and bed sheet he could get his hands on and jumping at every little movement past the windows. Newt had been too distracted by moving his creatures into more permanent habitats down in the basement, which was far larger than Credence had been expecting despite not being magical, and was thus ignorant of the changes as well.

That was until Credence cornered him in the kitchen five days into their new London lives.

“Goodness,” Newt laughed as the Selkie peppered gentle kisses up the back of his neck and down the groove of his shoulders. “What’s all this, then?”

Credence didn’t answer. It was far more critical for him to cover Newt’s skin in his scent.

“Credence, darling, as much as I appreciate your attention,” the magizoologist said, “I do have a lot of work to do.”

Had his tone been firmer or more insistent, Credence would have removed himself completely and apologized for being in the way. Instead, he heard only the grin in Newt’s voice, the slightest drop in octave that signified that Newt was enjoying himself, and the sharp intake of breath when his traveling hands dipped beneath the barrier of Newt’s collar. His palm rested over Newt’s steadily increasing heartbeat, their hair falling loosely over their eyes as their heads rolled forward and their eyes fluttered closed.

“Mate with me?” Credence asked – always asked, never told, never took without checking that he had Newt’s enthusiastic consent. Newt groaned deeply in his throat, the animalistic term bringing out something hungry and primal in the Human’s body in a way that Credence couldn’t quite fathom. He turned around in the cage of Credence’s embrace, staring deep into his eyes as his bashful smile faded into something much more contemplative.

“Credence...are you alright, love?” he asked softly.

He reached forward to cradle Credence’s cheek in the palm of his hand, a sign of affection that Credence would never tire of, and the Selkie dove into it with a desperation he couldn’t explain even if he wanted to. The smell of sea salt and thunder followed his skin as he trailed it over Newt’s calluses and burns, leaving a tiny piece of himself behind as he leaned his body more firmly against Newt’s chest. The redhead allowed him the indulgence, always so patient and giving, and trailed his free hand down Credence’s back.

“You poor thing. It seems I’ve been neglecting you,” Newt murmured into his ear, and Credence fought back a whimper of disappointment when he pulled his hands away. The Selkie watched with bated breath and growing apprehension as Newt took both of his bare wrists into his hands, turned them so that they hovered palms-up in midair, and then gently laid both of his own hands on top of them with a playful grin. “You’re going to have to lead me to where you want me.”

Credence hesitated, his sudden burst of confidence and daring fading beneath the realization of how distracting he was being.

He’d done his best to help Newt whenever and however he could, including cleaning up the parts of the house untouched by Theseus and Leta’s hurried attempts and assisting Newt in relocating his smaller creatures to the habitats he had created along the finished basement walls. However, there was only so much he could do without also waiting for Newt’s instructions, and so his desires had had plenty of time to fester and grow. Now Newt was offering to give him the closeness that he’s begun to miss during all of the chaos, and Credence worried it was too generous a gift.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to distract you,” Credence whispered shamefully, but Newt wasted no time in pecking the tip of his nose with a kiss.

“I think we could both use a little distraction, don’t you?” he asked. “We were stuck on a stuffy ship for four days straight, and we haven’t stopped moving in since. You’re clearly pent up, darling, and honestly, it might be good for me to slow down for a bit.”

The pads of his freckled thumbs rubbed soothing circles into Credence’s hands, and once the Selkie had determined that Newt was not simply humoring him for humor’s sake, he tightened his grip and pulled the redhead through the small corridor and up the stairs to the main bedroom. He’d spent a lot of time in there, rolling around in the soft sheets while Newt had banged around erratically beneath the floorboards, and so far it was the room he’d felt the safest in. Now he herded Newt onto the bed as he threw their clothes into a messy trail behind them, his skin burning the more they kissed and writhed against each other.

His seal pelt was draped across the footboard of the queen-sized bed in the center of the room, unmoving and innocent as Credence devoted the next few minutes to ravishing his Human lover from head to toe. Their moans and gasps of ecstasy echoed in the thick, heated bedroom air, gaining intensity and volume with every sharp thud of the headboard against the wall. Credence could barely comprehend his own movements as he pinned the magizoologist facedown onto the mattress and brought them both to pleasure’s end with harsh, feral thrusts. Thankfully, Newt was not at all displeased with his efforts, if his high-pitched, muffled screams were any indication.

Afterward, they collapsed in a sweaty, heaving pile of limbs and wild hair, with equally untamed grins plastered on their flustered faces.

“Feel better?” Newt managed to murmur, his hands rubbing against the Selkie's limbs thrown bonelessly across his chest.

“Yes,” he responded truthfully. “...you smell like me, now.”

“Ah, was that it? Interesting.”

“You can write it down later,” Credence teased knowingly, rubbing the bridge of his nose against the wet hairs on the back of Newt’s neck.

“Heh. As much as I enjoyed that, perhaps we should get out of the house more. I don’t want you to get too riled up too often,” Newt said. Credence hummed and snuggled his face into Newt’s shoulder, far too pleasantly worn out to give the suggestion the amount of thought it most likely deserved. “Would you like to go to the beach this weekend?”

“What about your creatures?” Credence asked. “Don’t they need you?”

“I’m almost done moving everyone. Some of them can’t come out of the case, so I keep their habitats intact and leave them be,” the magizoologist explained, forcing his body to roll out of the comfort of the bedsheets (and Credence’s arms) and stretching his arms toward the ceiling with a groan. “But we should be able to step away for a few hours. We’ll have to find a nice, private area for you to change.” 

“Are you sure it’s safe?” It was kind and wonderful of Newt to be so mindful of his needs, but Credence still didn’t trust the general Human population to be anywhere on Newt’s level of decency. His soul called for the sea every second he breathed, but he’d been burned far too badly to simply throw all of his new security and protection away on a whim.

Perhaps he should stay inside with Newt.

“...I don’t make promises I don’t know I can keep, Credence,” Newt said softly, turning so that he sat on the edge of the bed and his face was only partially obscured. “I want to say it’s fine, but...people are unpredictable at the best of times, and I won’t pretend I’m any good in a fight. All I can do is promise that I’ll do everything I can to protect you.”

After thinking it over in silence, Credence decided that this promise was all he could realistically hope for. Newt was right – people were unpredictable, but more than that, they were conniving and would do anything they had to in order to get what they wanted. If they recognized his pelt for the precious treasure that it was, they would most certainly try to take it and use it against him.

‘_I won’t let it happen again. It **can’t **happen again. I would rather die!_’

Still, so long as Newt was there to keep an eye out for danger, there was at least a small chance that they would be left alone. A quick dip in the shallows would certainly make him feel better, make him feel whole and scratch the itch he felt constantly beneath his skin, and then he would be satisfied until the next trip. It wouldn’t have to be for very long. It wouldn’t have to be even an hour, surely.

“...would Saturday be okay?” he asked hesitantly, and Newt’s smile would have outshined the sun.

“Certainly!” He reached out to the foot of the bed, lifting the dark pelt off of the footboard with the utmost care and draping it over Credence’s huddled form. The Selkie’s face grew warm as Newt laid his naked body on top of him and shielded his entire form from the rest of the world, reveling in the intimate thrill that surged through him. “We’ll take a nice, long swim, maybe catch some fish and oysters. You’ll feel nice and refreshed, you’ll see!”

Credence sighed in contentment, and for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to look forward to something.

* * *

Unfortunately, letting his control slip and his heart fill with excited expectation turned out to be a devastating mistake.

Three days later, on the damp Friday evening before their highly anticipated trip, an unexpected thud came from the floor of the sitting room. Credence had been helping Newt wrangle up the escaped baby Nifflers (again) and throwing them kicking and squeaking into their small enclosure (again), so neither of them had heard the noise the first two times it echoed. On the third time, however, Credence’s survival instincts swelled to their full height and put every nerve in his body on edge.

“What was that?” he asked, slowly inching his way towards the stairs leading up to the first floor.

The possessive part of him wanted to face the threat head-on, to take the unknown force upon himself so that his beloved wouldn’t have to suffer. Sadly, a much bigger part of him whispered how, despite all reason, Captain Graves had survived the deadly storm Credence had created and had come to reclaim him at long last. This unrelenting fear coursed through his veins like poison, sending him into tiny spasms as other, more worrying thuds echoed from above.

“I don’t know,” Newt whispered, his expression hardening. “Credence, stay behind me. Where’s your pelt?”

“In the bedroom.” _Stupid_! Stupid, why had he left it out of reach?

“Alright. Just...try not to panic,” Newt said with a wince. He slowly inched his way up the stairs, with Credence falling as close behind as he was physically able, and creaked open the door leading from the basement into the adjoining sitting room. The lights in the sitting room and kitchen were all on, exactly as they had left them, but even from behind Newt’s back Credence could see the shifting forms of two shadows that should not have been there.

“Just give it to me, sweetie, just –” a soft female voice whispered, and it took only a moment to realize that it sounded vaguely familiar.

Newt’s shoulders tensed even more than before, but in clear recognition and shock rather than fear. They hastened their approach to the sitting room in complete unison, and the two men stood wide-eyed and flabbergasted as Queenie and Jacob quietly fought over the possession of Newt’s clearly broken vase. It took a moment for the two new arrivals to realize that they’d been spotted, and their flustered movements skidded to a halt as the two couples stood staring at one another in shocked silence.

Jacob was the first to break the spell, dropping the poor vase to smash onto the ground and approaching them with wide, open arms.

“HEY! NEWT! Get over here, you maniac!” he bellowed joyfully, flinging his arms around Newt while the magizoologist awkwardly smiled at the both of them. Queenie fretted over the remains of the vase in the background, before seemingly accepting its demise and quickly turning to hang her coat up on the hooks by the front door.

“Oh, we hope you don't mind, Newt? We let ourselves in – it's raining out there – cats and dogs! London's cold!” she said, her smile sweet but strained. As she crossed the sitting room to join them, Credence noticed two small suitcases standing next to one another by the welcome mat. “Wait! Is that –?”

Credence glanced up at where Queenie was staring at him, her hand clasped over her mouth and her eyes glossy with tears. She reached forward around a giggling Jacob, almost as if she expected Credence to fade away the moment she touched him. He blushed when her fingertips rubbed against his shoulder, his chest bursting with unexpected emotion as she gasped his name in raptured relief.

“Credence! Oh, Credence, honey!” She threw her arms around him, only slightly shorter than him and shockingly strong for her size. “You’re _alive_! I’m so happy to see you!”

“Hello, Miss Goldstein,” he said politely, his voice cut off with a grunt when Jacob suddenly joined their tiny huddle.

“Oh, call me Queenie, sweetie, it’s alright.” She released the Selkie with a grin that could not be contained, absentmindedly holding Jacob close when he snuggled up to her side. “I can’t believe Newt found you! Why didn’t you say anything in your letters?”

“I didn’t want to tell anyone before he was ready,” Newt responded, shrugging now that the choice had been taken out of their hands. He glanced behind the pair towards the sitting room, his expression hopeful and expectant, as he searched for something Credence couldn’t see. “Is Tina...Tina?”

“Oh, it’s just us, honey. Me and Jacob,” Queenie said, wincing at how Newt’s hopeful grin fell into a disappointed frown.

“Oh.”

Credence felt a familiar twinge of fear and jealousy in his chest at his lover’s dismay. Despite having successfully pushed their blooming platonic relationship over into a tentative romantic one almost six months ago, a large source of anxiety for the Selkie’s confidence was the undeniable affection Newt held for Tina Goldstein. He couldn’t really blame him for liking her; after all, she had been one of the only crew members on the MACUSA to defend Credence against _that woman_’s cruelty out of her own compassion. If anyone deserved Newt’s love and respect, if anyone was worthy of his kindness and light, it was Tina.

That didn’t make Newt’s feelings for her any easier to watch, though – especially when he now had something precious to lose.

As the uncomfortable silence stretched on, with Queenie glancing back and forth in clear distress between her two hosts, the Legilimens quickly gathered a dozing Jacob up and led him towards the dining room table.

“Why don't I make us some dinner, huh?” She forced a smile as she assisted Jacob, who was barely able to take a seat without falling heads over heels onto the carpet, before turning to take Newt’s mismatched crockery out of their cabinets.

“That’s nice of you,” Newt said as Credence began to follow her in dejected silence. The magizoologist gently touched his shoulder as they joined the grinning baker at the table, his smile still tainted by Tina’s absence but more concerned for Credence’s sudden mood. The Selkie shook his head, twisting his scarred hands together as Newt tried to make polite conversation. “So, if Tina’s not with you, where is she?”

“Last I heard, she was on a ship heading to the European coast,” she responded softly. “...Tina and I aren’t talking much these days.”

“Why?” Newt asked, surprised.

“Well, it turns out Humans and non-Humans getting together is trickier than it sounds. I think it’s worth it, but Teen doesn’t think it’s a good idea…” she said. As she began to pull out any ingredient she could find that could be used to make a decent meal, Credence and Newt noticed Jacob reaching out to drink the salt from its shaker. Queenie turned with shocking speed, her shoulders tense as she took the shaker out of her beloved’s hand and replaced it with a glass of water she had been fetching from the sink. “Ah, speaking of which! We’re not just here to visit you, Newt. It’s a special trip for us – you see, Jacob and I, we’re getting married!”

She thrust her left hand out for them to see, a simple gold engagement band around her finger. Jacob cheered in response, raising his glass with an incoherent shout and pouring the water all over his head. Credence blinked in shock, looking from Jacob’s flushed face to Queenie’s strained smile and back again.

‘_Something’s wrong_,’ he realized. Queenie’s expression became desperate, her eyes widening as she looked at Newt in horror.

“What? I have not,” she said. Credence glanced at Newt in confusion, his back tensing as he took in the magizoologist’s increasingly furious glare.

Newt only glared like that when someone had done something unforgivable.

“Will you stop reading my mind?” the magizoologist muttered, but his face remained fierce. Queenie’s smile all but vanished, shaking her head and frettingly petting the back of Jacob’s head with a kitchen towel.

“Oh, that is an outrageous accusation. Look at him. He's just happy. He's so happy!”

“Newt, what’s going on?” Credence demanded. Newt glanced at him only for a moment, before clenching his jaw and sighing deeply in his throat.

“She’s given him a love potion,” he explained in a whisper, just low enough that Jacob did not seem to hear him. “It makes a person have blind devotion to whomever the giver wishes. I’ll bet he’s not even aware of where he is right now.”

Credence’s rising fear turned ice-cold as he stared at the baker’s oblivious eyes. It all made sense now – the uncoordinated movements, the excessive euphoria, the hopeless obedience that Jacob had every time Queenie gave him a wordless order. Credence felt his breath cut off as his throat closed up in horror, the sickening implications of what Queenie had done sinking into the darkest parts of his mind – the place where he put things that should never be touched or remembered.

‘_It’s like what Captain Graves did to me! She’s kidnapped him and brought him here against his will! She’s –!!!_’

“No! No, it’s not like that at all! Credence!” Queenie begged, moving towards him as if to pull him close across the table. Credence all but flew away from her reach, knocking his chair to the ground with an echoing thud and almost tripping over it in his haste to escape.

He’d been right before. People were unpredictable. They would do anything they had to in order to get what they wanted.

It didn’t matter who got hurt along the way.

“Credence. Credence, I need you to breathe for me, love,” Newt’s voice suddenly called, achingly soft and almost drowned out by the sudden bursts of thunder beyond the safety of their home. Credence retreated until his back hit the nearest wall, his vision going hazy around the edges as he tried to keep his panic and nausea at bay. The power beneath his skin summoned a more violent downpour that slammed against the windows and screamed with the wind, and even Newt’s worried face and soothing words could not soothe his horrified ire.

Queenie stood shaking across the room, her hands clasped over her mouth and her eyes wet as she experienced his tortured memories second-hand. 

‘_How could you? **How could you?!**_’

“Queenie,” Newt snapped, his hands still outstretched in an attempt to soothe Credence’s magical onslaught of destruction outside. “I assume you have the antidote somewhere?”

“...Newt, please,” she tried to beg, but no one else in the room was moved. Jacob remained unaware of the sudden tension in the room, having started giggling into his own arm after Credence had fled from the table. After a few moments of silence, Queenie whimpered in defeat, sauntered into the sitting room where her coat lay hanging, and returned with a small vial filled with glowing blue liquid. “Newt, I just –”

“Queenie, you've got nothing to fear if he wants to get married. We can just negate the potion and he can tell us himself,” Newt said firmly. The blonde nymph’s lips tightened into a deep frown, but she obeyed her host’s wishes and gently coaxed Jacob to sit up straight and drink from the vial without any further trouble.

Thankfully, the antidote worked quickly, and Credence forced his raging powers to fall back to a simmer as Jacob blinked back to full awareness within seconds.

“Wha?”

“Congratulations on your engagement, Jacob,” Newt said, his voice not at all jovial.   
Jacob gawked in open confusion and distress in response.

“Wait, what?” At his questioning look, Newt and Credence both looked over his shoulder at where Queenie stood frozen and trembling with emotion. “Oh, no, you didn’t.”

Slowly, incredulously, he rose to his feet and turned to face Queenie. Whatever she saw in his face, whatever she was able to hear inside his mind, it broke what little remained of her shattered hopes and dreams. She turned with a quiet sob, running to the door and grabbing her belongings faster than any of the men could follow. The slam of the door seemed to echo louder than the thunder beyond the skies above them, and the loud sound finally broke Jacob out of his horrified stupor.

“Queenie!” He made to run after her before skidding to a halt and turning back to where Newt stood with hunched shoulders. “It's very nice to see you, both of you. Where the hell am I right now?”

“Uh, London,” Newt said softly. Jacob huffed in disbelief, flinging his arms up into the air and staring at the cracks in the ceiling as if they could bless him with the patience he was clearly losing.

“Oh! I always wanted to _go here_! Queenie!” The magizoologist and the Selkie watched him go without a word, glancing at one another with sadness in their eyes and disappointment in their hearts.

“Do you hate me right now?” Newt asked, averting his eyes and yet still managing to keep his voice steady. “For being Human?”

“...a little,” Credence confessed. “But she’s not Human, is she?”

“Not technically, no.”

“So it’s not just Humans, then,” he murmured brokenly. “Anyone can be evil if they want to be.”

“...or when they’re desperate enough,” Newt agreed.


	6. Chapter 6 - Queenie

Queenie would never deny that what she did was wrong. She had known, even when the thought first snuck its way into her head and drove her to the less than respectable apothecary across town, She knew that it went against everything Tina had tried to instill in her as they had grown up in their parent’s dearly departed shadows. She knew that Jacob would be angry with her, Tina would be disappointed in her, and that the law would still be merciless if they ever decided to return to America.

But Jacob wouldn’t listen to her anymore. She’d begged him, pleaded that it wasn’t her fault what she’d been born unHuman, and tried to make him understand why having a ring on her finger meant so much to her – and still, every time, their conversations ended with a resounding ‘_no_’ from the surprisingly stubborn baker.

“We could be so happy together,” she’d shouted at Tina so many nights ago. “Why can’t anyone just let us be happy?!”

Her sister had attempted to soothe her in the beginning, tried to see the merits of both sides of the argument, but as the weeks went on, even her steel compassion had turned to rust.

“He’s given you his answer, Queenie! You have to respect it!” she’d scolded the night before she sailed off into the terrifying unknown. “If you keep asking, you’ll only push him away!”

“What would you know? You don’t know anything about what I’m going through!” she’d snapped back, her confidence wavering in the face of her sister’s rage and yet too far deep into her resolve to care about the damage she was causing. “You’ve never been in love! You don’t know anything about it!”

She would never forget the silent, fleeting image of Newt’s smiling face that flashed across Tina’s mind. She would never forgive herself for the pained, shuttered look at came across her sister’s face when she realized what Queenie had seen. She would always regret letting Tina go that night, a suitcase clenched in her fist and a slammed door in her wake as she left without even saying goodbye.

She had cradled the potion in her hands every night afterward, agonizing over the underhanded means that would lead to a fairytale end. A love potion wouldn’t change the law, wouldn’t make their lives any easier once the papers were signed, but she knew that Jacob would never go back on the union once he’d come back to reality. He really did love her, would accept her for all of her faults, and once the initial betrayal had faded into a bothersome memory, they would finally find the happiness that they both deserved.

It wasn’t until she heard of Newt’s sudden deportation that she even considered London.

It was like fireworks had gone off in her mind, a loophole that she hadn’t considered in spite of her desperate attempts to think of a solution that would make her and Jacob equally happy. She’d heard of England’s more accepting culture, that her kind was not considered a category of lesser beings anymore, and Newt could help them figure out the details of moving there permanently. Jacob would sell his bakery back to the bank, set up a new one in London, and they would finally be free to start their new lives together with nobody to tell them that it was wrong!

She had to haggle away quite a pretty penny for the teleportation charm necklace, which would take them anywhere she thought of a total number of three times. The love potion was the simple part, slipping it into Jacob’s afternoon coffee when they shared his lunch break together. They packed only the essentials, her guilt slowly fading away with every hopeless smile her beloved threw her way, before hopping first across the Atlantic to the English coast, and then into Newt’s sitting room.

She had not been expecting Credence.

She had not expected to be looked at like a monster.

The light drizzling rainfall hid the salty tears gathering on her eyelashes as she stormed down the street in front of Newt’s house. The distant creak of a door followed by hurried steps and that sweet voice shouting her name in anger – all of it was drowned out by the sting of rejection that squeezed at her heart. Even her best was not good enough, she saw that now, and even trickery and force would not bring her dreams to reality.

“Queen, honey! Well, I'm just curious, when were you going to wake me up, huh? After we'd had five kids?!” Jacob demanded, his voice angrier than she had ever heard it. She bit her bottom lip and turned to face him, trying and failing to sound strong and rational.

But she couldn’t find rationality in any of this, because it just didn’t make any _sense_ to her!

“Why is it wrong to want to marry you? To wanna have a family?” she pleaded brokenly. Jacob sighed, his angry scowl drooping at the sight of her tears. “I just want what everyone else has, that's all!”

She saw the same heartbroken wish in his eyes. She saw the future he wanted for them, with a nice little house and a tiny baby in her arms. And yet, more than that, she saw a fear that she couldn’t understand – a fear that pushed all of those wishes aside as though they meant nothing.

She whimpered in frustration and attempted to flee once more, only for Jacob to reach out to her and force her to face him.

“Okay, wait. We talked about this, like, a million times,” Jacob said softly. “If we get married, you’re going to lose everything you have, your entire way of life. I can’t have that! We can’t just ignore this kind of stuff.”

Queenie shook her head, the rain falling in silence as her world came crashing down around her. This had been her last chance, her final desperate move, and even now he wanted to throw it all away.

“They're really progressive here, and they'll let us get married properly!” she sobbed, her pride all but nonexistent in the face of the inevitable demise of everything she wanted. Jacob, for all that his fury snapped and flickered beneath his somber frown, seemed to soften at her heartfelt pleas and reached out to pet her hair.

“Sweetheart, you don't need to enchant me. I'm already enchanted. I love you so much.”

“Yeah?” Queenie smiled with a sniff. She didn’t have to ask, for she saw it all inside his mind, now and always before. Still, she never tired of hearing him say it aloud, to have him reaffirm his love for her so that his words and thoughts existed in perfect harmony.

Which was why it hurt so much more when he pulled away a second later.

“Yeah…but I can't have you risking everything like this, you know? You’re not giving us a choice, sweetheart,” he grumbled, his anger and feelings of betrayal making their return beneath his attempts to remain calm.

And just like that, Queenie felt her pain turn into something ugly and spiteful. All of the years of having her choices taken from her, ripped from her hands by fate or whatever it was that she couldn’t control – her parents, her body, her abilities, her race – all of it building and building and sending her spiraling into a state of self-justified anger and resentment. This was supposed to be the _one thing_ she had control over – who to love and how their futures progressed together. She was supposed to have a choice here, a choice that had been the one constant light in her lonely life before she was once again denied.

And for what?

“You’re not giving _me_ a choice! One of us had to be brave, and you were being a coward!” she shouted, the darkness of the night doing nothing to hide the surprised hurt on Jacob’s face.

She regretted it instantly, but just like with Tina, she found that she couldn’t stop until it was too late. And just like with Tina, everything spiraled even further out of control from then on.

“I was being a coward?” he asked incredulously. “If I’m a coward, you’re –!”

He stopped himself, but Queenie saw the insult clear as day nonetheless, and it stung so much more by the sheer unexpectedness of it all.

“— crazy,” she gasped, her voice sounding far away as her own thoughts spiraled into chaos. Jacob’s expression fell, but even his fiercest denials couldn’t erase what she had heard.

“I didn’t say it…”

“You didn’t have to.”

‘_I don’t understand. How did everything go so wrong? This isn’t the Jacob I know!_’

“No, I didn't mean it, sweetheart,” he tried to say, but she knew the truth. She had felt that split second of disdain, all of the anger he’s built up in the five minutes since he’d been awakened bursting all at once inside the parts of his mind where she shouldn’t have been able to go. But he couldn’t hide anything from her. He couldn’t lie to her.

Even if he tried.

“Yeah, you did,” she said with a glare. Jacob shook his head, but Queenie backed away. “...I’m going to find my sister.”

She turned to walk down the street, fully prepared to stop the moment Jacob called her back. She believed that he would follow her, apologize to her, prove to her that he was just as willing to fight for their love as she was. She wanted him to realize what he was about to lose, and suddenly everything would become clear to him.

She needed her prince to come and save her again.

“Fine! See your sister!” Jacob shouted.

Her eyes squeezed shut, her glass heart cracking with every hurried step she took, and the magic necklace was in between her fingers before she could think. Her body rushed through the air, her mind thinking only of getting _away_ from the man she once believed so perfect and forgiving. She felt her body stumble onto a wet, cobblestone pathway in the shadows of two old buildings, the night dark and empty of any familiar faces. Her vision was hazy and her lips were trembling, and she could only take a few awkward steps before she collapsed against the nearest brick wall.

Her heartbroken sobs echoed off the barren walls around her, but no one was there to hear them.

* * *

She walked the lonely streets of the city the necklace had taken her to, lost and unable to find many people about at such a late hour. She’d realized only once she’d tried to take in her surroundings that she hadn’t given the necklace a specific destination in mind, and in her emotional recklessness, she had wasted the last magical trip she’s been afforded. The signs upon the shop windows were all in English, a sign that she was most likely still in England at least, but the street signs and passing vehicles offered her no other clues or worthwhile assistance.

After wandering about for thirty minutes, asking any passersby that seemed adequately approachable for directions to the nearest motel, she’d finally been able to find a rundown establishment near the edge of the city outskirts.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we do not take American money here,” the kindly old woman behind the front desk said with a sympathetic shake of her head. Queenie looked down at her meager payment in mortified horror, realizing that in her desperation to arrive with Jacob in Newt’s home, she had bypassed any official Customs offices that would have allowed her to exchange her savings to the proper currency.

“Oh...um...do you know anywhere that would?” she asked worriedly, and the woman only shook her head again.

“It’s rare for any hotel or shop to accept anything but the Queen’s money, I’m afraid,” she explained. “Do you have any friends or relatives that can help you?”

“...no. No, I don’t.”

‘_Not anymore. They think I’m a monster, now._’

“I’m so sorry, dear. I wish I could help you, but I’m not allowed to make exceptions.” The woman looked at her with heart-wrenching pity, and it was more than Queenie could take in her current state.

She thanked the receptionist in haste, stuffing her useless money into her coat pocket and heading back out into the rain with her optimism in shambles. She traveled down bewildering labyrinths of alleyways and more populated streets with her suitcase by her side, the normally buzzing chorus of thoughts around her steadily rising into a turbulent bombardment inside her head. The longer she walked, the more her hopelessness and heartache sank into her bones beside the cold, the louder the chaos grew.

‘_I can’t – stop it! Stop it! Leave me alone!_’

But they would never leave her alone. The voices would never stop. It was the curse that plagued her ever since she had been born, unrelenting in its ruthlessness and never giving her a moment’s peace.

She rushed through the milling crowds of dark umbrellas, her own sending droplets flying as her legs carried her further and further into the unknown until she smelled the familiar salty scent that had once brought her so much comfort.

‘_The sea. The sea has never turned me away before!_’

She made her way towards the docks, the voices following her and only growing with her desperation. Her fingers grew numb when she finally saw the dark, churning waters beyond the walls of brick and mortar, dropping her umbrella and almost crumbling to her knees as she latched onto a wooden pole lining the ocean docks. She pressed the side of her head into the smooth surface, her fragile composure breaking as she abandoned her suitcase at her feet and buried her fingers into the side of her head.

People were easiest to read when they were hurting, but when she was the one who was hurting, people became too easy to read all at once.

‘_Stop it! Stop stop stOPSTOPSTOPSTOP!!!_’

She clenched her teeth as her head began to split itself into pieces, but before she could start banging her head against the post just to feel something, _anything_ else, a gentle hand fell onto her shoulder.

And suddenly, blissful silence reigned once more.

“Madame?” a soft female voice called to her. Queenie heaved deep, startled gasps of fresh salty air as she stared unseeingly at the waters below her. It almost hurt, to hear nothing but her own turmoil after being bombarded so aggressively not moments before. “Is everything alright, madame?”

The Nereid turned slowly, her wet hair plastered against her tear-stained face as she took in the worried expression of her unwitting savior. The woman was undeniably beautiful, her hair dark and her lips sharp as she moved to share her umbrella with Queenie as best she was able. She was shrouded in shadow, with a matching tilted flower hat and flowing trench coat, but her bright green eyes gave her a sense of mystery that immediately put Queenie on edge.

Not to mention the fact that her mind, which should have been an open book to Queenie’s ability, was completely hidden from her.

“Uh, I’m…I’m sorry, I’m…” Queenie stuttered, her entire body shaking from the wet and cold. The woman took in her smeared makeup, the suitcase at her feet, and the general emptiness of the docks around them.

“You don’t have to be sorry. You just seemed distressed,” the woman said, her thick accent difficult for Queenie to place. French, perhaps? “Is there someone I can help you contact?”

“I…no, I…I don’t have…” Her throat closed on a tiny sob, all of her pain over Credence’s angry mental accusations and Jacob’s dismissals returning in full force now that the white noise had been banished. The woman tsked in what Queenie could only call motherly concern, reaching forward and drawing her close in spite of her dripping clothes.

“You poor dear. There, there, now. No need to fret.” She pulled away with a comforting smile, reaching down to fetch Queenie’s suitcase and holding it out for her to take. “Let us get you warmed up, yes? My ship is right down the dock.”

“Your ship?” Queenie asked in confusion, and the woman smiled with pride.

“Yes. The _Père Lachaise_, my pride and joy. Ah!” She blinked, as though realizing something vital before switching the hand in which her umbrella rested and offering Queenie a shallow curtsey. “Where are my manners? I am Captain Vinda Rosier of the _Marine Nationale_.”

“Oh, uh, I’m Queenie Goldstein,” she said, trembling far too much to offer a polite bow in return. The young female Captain did not seem to mind, instead offering her free arm and leading the Nereid down the dock towards a line of anchored vessels. A part of Queenie shook with uneasiness at how friendly this mysterious woman was being, but she sadly did not have the energy to reject, nor any feasible alternatives to rejecting, her kind offer to escape from the unfeeling rainfall. 

“Your accent – it is American, yes?” Vinda asked, and Queenie allowed herself to nod. “You’re so far away from home. Do you like London?”

“It’s a little cold,” she responded, and Vinda chuckled with an agreeable nod.

“I wish I could say France is superior in that regard – as it is in most ways – but sadly we have had equally dreadful weather this year.”

She led Queenie up a gangplank lined by purple velvet ropes, the impressively large military vessel expanding before them in the silver light of the moon. Queenie was surprised when the few crewmen milling about the main deck each bowed to the two of them as they made their way into the Captain’s Quarters, but that surprise was quickly squashed beneath a bountiful relief when they stepped into the warm foyer of Vinda’s office. There was an ornate Persian rug beneath a simple oak desk, a tasteful burgundy sofa and matching chairs pushed to one side of the room, and stocked built-in bookcases on every free wall the impressive quarters had to offer. The walls were shockingly patterned, a dark navy covered in golden floral prints, and decorated with an abundance of oil paintings in gold frames. What Queenie could only assume was the Captain’s sleeping quarters were located on the far side of the room, hidden away from view by a closed door.

Vinda helped her out of her dripping coat and gestured to the sofa, hanging up her own black coat to reveal a silk dress in forest green and fetching a silver teapot from a nearby cupboard.

“How do you like your tea?” she asked as Queenie tried not to dampen the lovely cushions any more than necessary.

“Oh, that’s alright, I don’t need any,” she said politely, but the female Captain gave her a rueful smile.

“Nonsense. You are soaked to the bone. You need to get your core temperature back up, or you will catch cold.” She set about making the tea, pressing a carved magical symbol on the side of the pot to make it boil and fetching two porcelain cups and saucers. Queenie glanced around at her surroundings, debating whether to give in to proper manners or err on the side of paranoia. After all, Vinda had a point about the cold, and she was already miserable. What could a simple cup of tea hurt?

“I suppose you’re right. Can I have two sugars please?”

“Of course! It is no trouble.” She made the steaming beverage to the Nereid’s liking, handing her the delicate cup and reclining back in one of the chairs beside her. “I hope that helps.”

Queenie took a tentative sip, her lips far too numb to feel the burn.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to do all this,” she said softly. Vinda smiled at her, her index finger tracing the edge of her own cup.

“It’s true, I did not. But if a woman sees another woman in trouble, and she does not help her, who else are we to trust when _we _are the ones in need?” she asked. Queenie glanced at her in curiosity, her mind still uncomfortably silent. A part of her was grateful for the disconnect, to feel like a normal person for once in her life, but the other part of her brain just couldn’t comprehend the disconnect from her own personal reality.

“…I’m sorry, I know this is rude, but…I noticed that I can’t hear your thoughts at all,” Queenie wondered aloud. She was rewarded with a puzzled look.

“My thoughts? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Oh, I’m a Legilimens,” she explained, only realizing too late that revealing such intimate details to a stranger was beyond stupid and horrifically damning. Thankfully, from the shocked expression on Vinda’s face, it had at least been a secret well kept, until now.

“Truly? Fascinating! I have never met one so young,” she said breathlessly. Queenie blinked at that, cradling her teacup in her lap and trying to absorb its warmth through pure contact.

“You’ve met others before?”

Vinda’s plump lips fell into a somber frown, her eyes diverting to the floor and the steam from her tea wafting up into her face.

“Hmm…tell me, Madame Goldstein, how many women do you think are given positions of power in the military, American or otherwise?” Queenie faltered at the sudden change of topic and tried to smile in spite of the sudden tension in the air.

“I, uh, I don’t know of any personally,” she said in compromise. Vinda nodded, unsurprised.

“Neither do I. In my country, it is unheard of for a woman to become an officer, let alone a captain in our naval forces. But my father was a fierce sailor who loved the sea almost as much as he loved his family, and I take after him in many ways. I believe it was destiny for me to become what I am now,” she explained. She paused to take a sip of her tea, her eyes glazed over with memories Queenie couldn’t hear. “When I first worked my way up the ranks, there were some who thought it…improper.

“At first, it was the usual hazing I had come to expect. Minor physical violence, my belongings stolen…but when I refused to quit, things began to escalate. I had men coming up to me with personal details they should not have been able to find, trying to blackmail me into leaving. I received false reports of misconduct, death threats, whatever you can think of. These men whom I was supposed to trust with my life, to share a special bond with, they did everything in their power to kill my dream, just because they were afraid and thought they knew how the world was supposed to work.”

Queenie swallowed the painful lump in her throat.

She knew what that felt like all too well.

“I realized that if I was going to achieve my goals, I would have to protect myself from every threat imaginable. I have built up an immunity to poison, I have learned how to fight with a variety of weapons, and I have also learned to shield my secrets from magical forces,” she said, glancing pointedly at Queenie’s shocked face. “So, no, you will not be able to read my mind, madame. My training makes it impossible, and it is something I cannot undo.”

“That’s…I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” the Nereid said, and she genuinely meant it. To be so strong and so skilled, and yet to have everybody constantly plotting against you – it wasn’t fair.

“It is unfortunate, yes, but I have grown from it. You see, my dear, when you truly want something, if you feel it is what you are meant to do, then nothing should be enough to stand in your way,” Vinda said with a satisfied smirk.

Queenie’s own smile disappeared, and she stared down into her quickly cooling cup.

“But what if things just don’t go the way you want them to? Even when you’ve done everything you can think of?” she asked dejectedly, her eyes quickly swelling with fresh tears. She vaguely saw Vinda set her cup aside and lean forward in her periphery, all previous confidence a thing of the past.

“May I ask how so?”

Queenie wasn’t sure she should answer, for it was all still too fresh and too close to her heart to share so easily. However, the French Captain had shared her own struggles so freely, so warmly with her, how could she not respond in kind?

“I have a fiancé, and he’s so wonderful you wouldn’t even believe it,” she explained, her voice thick with emotion and despair. “I love him more than anything, and he thinks I’m the greatest thing since sliced bread. But once we get married, the government will take away my wages and benefits, and he thinks we won’t be able to survive.”

“So you are willing to sacrifice everything for love, but he is not, because he wants to be secure,” Vinda summarized with a sigh.

“We had a huge fight,” Queenie cried, quickly covering her mouth and squeezing her eyes shut. She felt Vinda gently remove the teacup from her lap, and then cover her free hand with one of her own. “I called him a coward, and then he called me crazy – he said he didn’t mean it, but –”

“Oh, my dear, it’s not your fault. We all say things in the heat of passion and anger. It is the curse of having a heart,” Vinda soothed. She moved to sit beside Queenie’s shaking form, keeping her distance just out of Queenie’s personal space while still offering her comfort. “I cannot speak for you, nor your fiancé, but if you wish to hear a suggestion…I would allow him this night to think. You can stay here if you wish, there is plenty of room, and allow him to realize the hurt his words have caused you.”

Queenie glanced up at the Captain’s sympathetic face, into those bright green eyes that were filled with fire.

“He needs to know that there is no light in his life without you, but how can he learn if you are always by his side? And likewise, how can you take care of yourself if he continues to stand in your way?” she asked. “Let your tempers cool. Try to think of what you should do next, and perhaps you can come up with a compromise. What do you say?”

She made it sound so easy, so simple, but Queenie realized that she didn’t have anything to say against the suggestion she had given. She was lost, alone and hurting, and Jacob wouldn’t be able to disturb her here. Vinda seemed so nice, so understanding, and she was the first to offer her the comfort she’d been so desperate to hear.

And besides, where else did she have to go?

“I don’t want to be any trouble…”

“You are no such thing, my dear. I am happy to help.”


	7. Chapter 7 - Newt

Newt had begun cleaning up the remnants of Queenie’s meal preparations almost immediately after Jacob had run after her, while Credence moved to subtly watch their couples quarrel out of the sitting room window. The magizoologist heard the distant echoes of desperate shouting, a sharp inhale from where Credence huddled beside the glass, and gently padding feet as he returned to Newt’s side with a worried grimace.

“Queenie just disappeared. It was like magic,” he whispered, as though Jacob would hear their conversation through the walls of the house.

“It probably _was_ magic, then,” Newt said, sighing in disappointment as he placed the newly washed dishes off to the side to dry. Credence glanced back at the dark, drizzling night sky as he wrung his hands together.

“…should I go bring him back inside?” he asked, and Newt’s chest filled with pride at his selfless display of compassion. He gestured to the umbrella stored next to the front door and nodded his accession. The Selkie wasted no further time in fetching his most comfortable shoes and dashing out into the street. Newt leaned his damp hands against the edge of the kitchen sink when he was left alone inside the creaking townhouse.

It was not often that he was reminded that his extensive knowledge of all forms of creatures, magical and otherwise, was still very much limited by his own biases. Looking back on it now, he should have noticed the obvious signs of the love potion almost instantly. And yet, in his foolish conviction that the blonde-haired Nereid would _never_ be capable of something so abhorrent, he had shrugged off the warning signs and focused on what wasn’t there instead.

He and Tina had started exchanging letters almost as soon as she had returned to New York to report the sinking of the USS MACUSA. Her assistance in releasing Credence from his cruel indentured servitude had touched Newt’s heart in a way that no one had in a long while – certainly not since Leta had begun to bond with him and his creatures at school. The more the letters that passed between them, the more arguments they settled peacefully and the more stories they shared with one another about their individual adventures, the more Newt began to open up to the idea that Tina might just be one of his most cherished friends in the entire world.

And yet, she had said nothing about her sudden disapproval of Queenie’s marriage to Jacob. In fact, now that he was confronted with her absence and the problems her sister had inadvertent brought into his already chaotic life, he realized that she hadn’t written to him at all in quite a while.

‘_Why wouldn’t she confide in me about this?_’ he had to wonder. ‘_Have I said something to offend her? It certainly sounds like me…but what **was** it?_’

Sadly, his melancholy musings had to be pushed to the back of his mind as the door creaked open and Credence ushered a soaking Jacob back into the sitting room, their expressions closed off as the baker shuffled over to the sofa and melted into the cushions. Newt approached cautiously, slowly, as though he were addressing a frightened creature backed into a corner with nowhere to run.

“Jacob?” The baker ran a trembling hand through his hair, glancing up at his hosts with a rueful smile.

“Sorry to do this to you guys,” he grumbled. Credence abandoned the dripping umbrella by the wall, fetching a soft blanket that Newt’s grandmother had made for him decades ago and draping it around Jacob’s shoulders without being asked. “Ah, thanks, kid. Appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” Credence murmured softly, beginning to excuse himself to the kitchen to give Newt and his valued friend some privacy. Jacob smiled at his retreating back, however, and quickly put a stop to that.

“I’m surprised Newt managed to find you. I knew he was planning on searching, but I thought it was gonna be near impossible,” he said with a smirk. Newt felt his cheeks flare with mortification.

“Jacob!” he hissed, but his friend only chuckled at his suffering.

“What? I thought it was sweet!” He glanced at Credence’s face, saw the curious confusion there, and leaned back into the cushions with the blanket firmly tucked around him. “We were all worried about you, of course, but Newt here was a wreck. Thought he was gonna throw himself back into the water and swim to the other side of the ocean to make sure you were safe.”

“Now _that_ is an exaggeration!” Newt groused, tossing his hair fretfully and turning to retreat back into the kitchen. Jacob’s high-pitched giggles followed him, as well as the weight of Credence’s stare, but Newt couldn’t be too upset when he knew just how much Jacob must be hurting beneath his forced cheerfulness.

Newt remembered how Jacob had looked at Queenie all those months ago, as if she had been the answer to all of the prayers he hadn’t known he’d been saying every night before they met. To have her betray him so deeply, well…

They were going to have to fix that.

“Do you know where Queenie ran off to?” he called from the sanctuary of the kitchen, beginning to fetch a cup of hot coffee to warm his friend from the inside out. It had pained him, at first, to keep such an inferior beverage beside his precious tea, but once he’s discovered it was the only warm drink Credence would consume, he’d bitten his tongue and stocked up during their travels together. Now he was begrudgingly grateful for it, knowing it was probably Jacob’s preference, as well.

“She said she was going to find Tina…but that doesn’t really help me much,” he responded. Newt heard a creak and a muffled sigh, no doubt the sounds of a frustrated baker covering his face and trying to sink down into the oblivion that lay beneath the sofa cushions. “All I know is that Tina’s assignment was supposed to go all along the English Channel.”

“So she’s close by then!” Newt said excitedly, leaving the coffee black as he thrust it into Jacob’s cold hands.

He took the free space on the sofa for himself, offering his hand to Credence to take with an encouraging smile. Credence accepted the gesture instantly, and Newt guided him to sit upon the sofa armrest while he wrapped his free hand around the Selkie’s waist. After all, the last thing he wanted was for the young man to feel abandoned or unincluded in this rather important conversation – especially after all the horrific emotions he must have felt when he’d realized what Queenie had done.

“Maybe. Queenie never mentioned any letters or postcards, so I don’t even know if Tina’s here.” Jacob took a tentative sip of his beverage, flinching when the burning liquid touched his tongue but doing his best to hide it. “Where would I even start looking, though? The coast probably goes on for miles!”

“Well, if she’s on an international vessel, they’ll most likely have to stop at the Port of London,” Newt explained. “It’s the largest one we have, and it’s only half an hour away. If we hurry, we can probably catch up with Queenie while she’s still looking for Tina.”

Jacob stared with wide eyes at Newt’s expectant face, although Newt couldn’t fathom how anything he’d just said would be confusing or controversial.

“…you…you’d go with me?” Jacob asked.

“Of course I would!” Newt said, shocked that Jacob would even ask. “You’re my friend, Jacob, I want to help you in any way that I can!”

Credence chuckled and ran his fingers through Newt’s hair as Jacob’s eyes grew red and wet, and before he knew how to respond, Newt was suddenly gathered into a rough, one-armed embrace that pushed his face into Jacob’s damp vest.

“You’re the best friend a guy could ask for,” he heard Jacob’s voice say sniffily. He awkwardly reached up and patted his arm in an attempt at comfort and support. Once he’d been freed, he quickly removed himself from the sofa and made his way toward the basement door.

“Credence, I’m going to have to leave you in charge of the others for a bit,” he called over his shoulder, descending the staircase with the renewed energy of a man on a mission. He knew that it was quite unlikely that they would be able to find either of the Goldstein sisters in any haste, but he at least had the barest bones of a plan outlined in his head and a desire to help to the utmost of his abilities.

“What? Newt!” Credence’s voice followed him, louder than it had been since their guests had arrived and rising in a clear sign of panic.

“Don’t forget to give Patrick his pellets, and Malinda’s dressing needs to be changed daily –”

“Newt, wait! Are you sure? Can’t I come with you?” Credence asked breathlessly.

“Credence,” Newt slowed to a stop and turned to rest both of his hands on the Selkie’s shoulders. His eyes were wide and his face was drawn into a tight expression of doubt, though it relaxed somewhat once Newt gave him the physical contact he so often found comforting. “I would love to have you come, but you don’t know this city like I do. Besides, while I’m gone, I need someone here who I can trust. The creatures adore you, and I know you’ll take the best care of them.”

“What if something happens to you? What if I have to leave and can’t find my way back?” Newt glanced down at his shoes in thought, silently appreciating the fairness of the question, and held up a finger to ask for patience as he walked over to a nearby cabinet full of trinkets and instruments he often used in the field.

Thankfully, it didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for – an old, slightly fatigued, bronze pocket watch engraved with his initials on the lid.

“Here, take this,” he said, pressing down on the spring and showing Credence the inside. At first glance, it appeared like any normal pocket watch with a white watch-dial and decorative black hands. However, in between the two time-telling hands, a third, thinner hand pointed upwards at the 12 o’clock position. Credence ran his fingers over it in wonder, his brows furrowed in confusion when he noticed the extra feature.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a special watch my parents gave me when I came of age. The third hand is a homing device of sorts,” Newt explained. “If you need to leave the house, just follow that hand in whichever direction it points to, and it will lead you back here.”

Credence looked at him, clearly touched and still a little afraid, but did not pull away when Newt placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Jacob helped me save you from Grindelwald even though he had no obligation to do so,” he whispered against his skin. “He’s my friend, and he needs me. I promise I’ll come back to you as soon as I can.”

He felt Credence sigh unhappily and nod once against his lips. The magizoologist smiled and gathered up his suitcase and coat, stuffing any instruments, knickknacks, and potions he could think of in his endless array of pockets. He and Credence made their way back up to the sitting room where Jacob stood waiting, with the sounds of the creatures being left behind echoing at their backs. Together they moved towards the door, with Newt stopping only for a moment when Credence reached out to pull him into a final, deep kiss of farewell.

“At least try to stay safe?” Credence begged, a tiny hint of resignation in his voice that made Newt pout. Still, he knew the jab was in good faith, and he nodded just the same.

Both men were surprised when Jacob came up beside them and drew Credence into a loose hug.

“If I don’t see you after this, it was really good to see you again, kid,” the baker said with a smile. “You take care of yourself, okay?”

“Yes, Mister Kowalski,” he replied, ducking his head to try and hide his tiny smile.

“Heh! One of these days I’ll get you to call me Jacob.”

Their goodbyes all said and done, the two of them made their way down the damp London streets with Newt in the lead. His street was situated in a rather secluded area, which he preferred on most days but could admit was not ideal in this circumstance, and so it took a few minutes of walking in uncomfortable silence for them to reach a more populated area. Vehicles of a multitude of shapes and sizes whizzed down the roads, their bright lights almost debilitating in the darkness of the late hour, and after a few minutes of deliberation, Newt decided the best option available was the nearest bus stop.

It took less than a minute for a red double-decker bus to stop in front of them, the seats satisfyingly empty once they boarded and made their way to the back row to give themselves some unnecessary privacy. Jacob glanced around in awe, his downtrodden demeanor lifting slightly under the typical intrigue of a first-time tourist.

“I’ve always wanted to go on one of these,” he whispered. Newt allowed himself to smile, his precious suitcase securely tucked between his legs on the floor of the bus.

They traveled to the docks in silence, hopping the buses when Newt deemed it necessary, and rushed the rest of the way to the Port of London Authority on foot to begin their search for either of the Goldstein sisters. The docks were always rather populated with a wide array of different vessels – passenger, international, and military alike – and even the cold winter air could not keep the milling crowds of workers and tourists at bay for long. Newt found them a brightly illuminated street corner and reached into the depths of his inner coat pockets, pulling out a detailed map of London that he had been planning on giving to Credence once they had finished settling into their new routine.

“Alright. This is going to be the tricky bit,” he told Jacob, who pulled his coat tighter around him and glanced over Newt’s arm at the map. “The docks are quite…extensive, and the rain will make it difficult to track Queenie’s scent and movements.”

“Uh, right, so what should we do?” the baker asked, and after a moment’s deliberation, Newt handed the map over to him and bent down to open the latches of the suitcase. He closed his eyes, summoned the image of the habitat he wanted in his mind, and opened the lid directly in front of the creature he needed for their search.

The Niffler was not happy to see him, as expected, but he begrudgingly allowed himself to be picked up by the scruff and carried out into the open air with a questioning chatter.

“That’s a – a Niffler, right?” Jacob asked. “Why'd you bring him out?”

“Nifflers are obsessed with shiny things, and their tracking instincts are unmatched as a result,” Newt said with a grin. “Alright, here we are.”

Without any other preparation or warning, he jabbed the long bill of the Niffler into Jacob’s chest and rubbed its face all around the baker’s shirt and neck. Jacob reacted with indignation at first, but quickly relaxed with an indulgent sigh and allowed Newt to do as he pleased. The Niffler was equally tolerant of Newt’s insistent movements, taking in Jacob’s scent – and also, if they were lucky, Queenie’s – without struggling and squeaking when he’d sufficiently memorized the target Newt wanted.

The magizoologist released the Niffler onto the street, keeping a close eye out for any clues on a more Human level.

“Get looking!” he said, both to sniffing Niffler and bewildered baker. He grabbed his suitcase as he sprinted along the edge of the water, searching for a golden head of hair and a pair of piercing dark eyes with equal fervor. Jacob chose to go in the opposite direction, searching among the few passersby for the familiar face of his beloved and following the Niffler as he sniffed along the cold cobblestone ground. Minutes dragged on as they weaved through buildings and each traveling one direction down the docks before circling back to meet in the middle. Newt carried the Niffler in his arms as they moved on to another area of the docks, refreshing its bill with the elusive scent they sought and ignoring the growing numbness in his limbs.

“Newt!” Jacob called, approximately an hour into their search across the street from a row of small military boats. The magizoologist glanced down the road to see the Niffler rolling around on his back, rubbing his fur into the ground with Jacob staring with wide-eyed, tentative hope.

“Oh, good boy!” Newt praised, bending down to where the Niffler sniffled up at him. “What have you found?”

He bent down to the Niffler’s level, taking in the seemingly uninteresting street and licking the pavement to taste the earth.

“And we’re licking the dirt, now,” he heard Jacob grouse from above. Newt paid him no mind, rolling the muddy granules around on his tongue and searching for any signs of foreign material. The abundance of moisture made identifying the dirt’s source extremely difficult for his Human taste buds, but he trusted the Niffler’s judgment and moved to follow the trail he sniffed out behind him.

“He’s got something. Follow him!” They moved in single file down the docks, passing boat after boat as the Niffler weaved down the street with his chin firmly pressed against the ground.

They traveled perhaps half a mile, maybe more, until the tiny creature finally stopped and squeaked in obvious distress. Newt crouched down with a worried frown, petting the Niffler’s fur as he scratched his nostrils with tiny paws. Whatever he had smelled, whatever path he’d been following, had come to an abrupt end.

“It’s okay, love, you did so well,” Newt said, cradling the Niffler in his arms and fishing a bronze penny out of his pocket. He handed it to the excited creature as a reward for his efforts, and then gently placed him back into his gold-encrusted burrow within the depths of the suitcase. “The trail goes cold here.”

The two men glanced around them at the empty streets and towering ships, the sky now at its darkest hue and filled with faint speckles of starlight. There were no signs of life aboard the anchored vessels, but Newt was reluctant to postpone their search when they had had such impressive luck thus far.

“What do we do, Newt?” Jacob asked despondently, looking to his friend with slowly dying optimism. 

“I suppose we pay each crew a visit,” he responded, moving to approach the first boat with as much confidence as he could muster. His motto of worrying and suffering remained integral to his methods and outlook on life, and he wasn’t about to give it up now.

“And how do you suppose we do that?” Jacob demanded. “These things are ginormous! Not to mention we might get arrested?! Or thrown off the side?”

“I’m sure if we shout enough, someone will come talk to us,” Newt suggested, but his friend looked unconvinced.

“Seriously, man, there’s gotta be a better way,” Jacob insisted. “Why don’t we ask around, huh? There’s a bunch of stores around, most of them look like they’re still open.”

Newt paused and glanced at where Jacob was pointing. There were certainly lights on from what he could see of the shop windows, and there was a fair amount of sense in what his friend was suggesting. Trying to get onto every single ship and speak to the people in charge would be a long, difficult task to accomplish, but interrogating the people closer to land would not necessarily yield them any better results, either. He stared up at the long line of ships, all sitting motionless as if daring him to approach, and tried to decide which was the wiser route to take.

In the end, as they stood wavering and indecisive, the choice was taken out of their hands.

“You gentlemen seem lost,” an accented voice suddenly called from the end of a nearby deck. Newt and Jacob turned to see a dark-skinned stranger emerging from the shadows, watching him return a long, carved pipe into the inner folds of his long coat. He was elegantly dressed in a fine suit and fedora hat, but even in the darkness of the night, Newt could tell that they had seen better days. “Are you looking for a particular ship?”

“Uh, well, we were…we were actually just wondering if you might’ve come across a friend of ours?” Newt asked, trying his best to appear friendly and approachable without losing his cautious mindset. There was no evidence that this foreigner was a foe, but he’d been deceived by appearances before, and he wasn’t too keen to repeat such an experience.

“London is a large city, I’m afraid,” the man said with a polite smile. “You’ll have to be more descriptive.”

“She’s a beautiful woman, probably the most beautiful one you’ve ever laid your eyes on,” Jacob cut in, his hands gesturing wildly as the new arrival watched in poorly hidden amusement. “She’s got short, blonde hair, really tall, and she wears a lot of pink.”

“I am sorry, sir, but I’m afraid I don’t remember seeing such a person.”

“Well, there’s someone else, someone who would have been hanging around the docks more often,” Newt suggested. “She’s tall, dark hair, rather –”

“— intense?” Jacob suggested.

“— beautiful, herself,” Newt finished at the same time. The two men glanced at one another, with Newt shrugging at Jacob’s raised eyebrows.

The man considered them, a flash of recognition in his eyes.

“What is this woman’s name – the second one?”

“Tina Goldstein,” Newt said, and he almost allowed himself to become hopeful when the stranger chuckled and nodded in clear understanding.

“It seems you are in luck, gentlemen. I indeed know where she is. In fact…” he paused, turning to point at the dark outline of a ship only a few yards away from where they stood. “She is assigned to that one – the _Laurena_.”

“…how do you know this?” Newt asked, his suspicions raised more and more each time the man spoke. However, he did not seem at all concerned or offended by the magizoologist’s question, and instead stood tall with pride.

“Because that boat belongs to me. I am Lieutenant Yusuf Kama, captain of the _Laurena_ and officer of the _Marine Nationale_. Tina Goldstein is a member of my crew.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you see, please feel free to leave kudos and comments! It keeps me going!


	8. Chapter 8 - Credence

Credence cradled the old pocket watch in his hand, his thumb brushing lovingly over the engraved ‘**N**’ as he sat curled up at the bottom of the wooden basement stairs. The baby Nifflers squeaked and the Augurey cawed at him in worry, but even their touching concern barely made a dent in his ever-growing restlessness.

Having Newt bestow upon him something so meaningful and personal had warmed his heart into a bursting flame, but on the heels of his happiness followed a fear he felt crawling up his spine as the minutes stretched on and on and on. Newt had said they would arrive at their destination within half an hour, and Credence was willing to force his mind into patience for an hour after that. After all, Queenie had a head start on her pursuers, and there were so many places that she could hide in her own search for her sister. 

An hour came and went, and as the second began to sneak up on him, he forced himself to occupy his distracted mind with the tiny family Newt had built over the years. He cleaned the habitats that they hadn’t gotten to earlier in the evening, topped off everybody’s food and water dishes if he was able, and paced in more fretful circles around the concrete floors than he could count. He watched the seconds tick by, the mystical third hand on the watch-dial silent and unmoving from its initial position, as the incurable darkness beneath his skin pulsed and writhed in time with his internal tension. Newt had been so excited to take him to the ocean, to allow him to stretch his fins and taste the salt in the air, but the unexpected arrival of his friends and the sudden obligation to help had thrown all of those plans into disarray.

Now Credence was suffering the consequences of letting his expectations grow so high.

He should have been used to it, to be able to slip into the numbness of constriction like an old sweater worn from use. He should have been unfazed by the inability to don his true form for such an extended period of time, should have been able to endure the pain in proficient silence, but now he saw just how much damage Newt’s kindness had inadvertently done. Now his body trembled, his lungs squeezed uncomfortably in his chest, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled with the desire to _run_, _swim_, _flee_, _breathe_ —

‘_No. I can’t leave. I can’t leave, I can’t leave _—’

But Newt hadn’t said he was forbidden from doing so.

‘_He’ll come back. He’ll be back soon, just like he promised!_’

But he’d already been gone for so long. How much longer would it take?

‘_It’s not safe! I’ll be captured again! I’ll never see Newt again!_’

But it was getting late, the hands on the watch slowly turning towards midnight the longer he stared at them. How many Humans would be out at this time of night? How many would even see him amongst the dark shadows of the rocks as he slipped into his skin for the first time in far too long?

After ten long minutes of sitting still and cold on the stairs as his mind and heart battled for dominance, his heart eventually managed to get the upper hand.

He kept the pocket watch clenched tightly in his hand as he ran up the stairs and locked the basement door securely behind him. His addled mind barely noticed what fresh clothes he grabbed from the dresser he’d claimed as his own in their tiny bedroom, throwing on his cleanest button-down shirt and a vaguely matching vest before tying his long hair back with a black ribbon. He threw on the dark green coat Newt had bought for him after the redhead had seen him admiring it in a shop window. Its disordered white beadwork extended down the back and sleeves in various patterns in a way most would find distasteful, but he thought it matched the chaotic turmoil of his spirit on most days. Lastly, he gently took his pelt in hand and looped it around his neck like a scarf, hoping the placement and texture would fool most Humans into believing it was worthless.

He took the spare key they kept thrown on the sitting room vanity and practically flew out of the townhouse as the cold winter air sank into his skin. Despite his desperation, however, he still had enough presence of mind to stop and check the pocket watch Newt had given him, turning in various directions on the empty street to see if the third hand did as it was foretold to do. Indeed, he was shocked to find, the hand would always spin around as he did so that it was always pointing to their small abode, an action that filled Credence with relief.

Satisfied that he would be able to find his way back, the Selkie set off at a brisk pace as he followed the distant sound of waves and the biting winds that led him down the quiet streets of London.

‘_It’ll only be for a little while_,’ he tried to reassure himself. ‘_Newt will understand when I tell him why I left._’

The silent roar of his power continued to prickle beneath his skin as he walked on, the straggling crowds in the more populated areas of the city paying him no mind as he took in the sights with a critical eye. It was similar to New York in the way all cities were to one another, full of tall buildings and illuminated streetlamps. Where the air of his former prison was tainted with the thick scent of coal and smog, however, London smelled more of tainted fish and metallic steam. The people were generally more courteous of his space as they passed, though none were any less abrasive about it than their American counterparts, and within minutes he found himself settling down into a more comfortable walking pace the louder the sea called to him.

Unfortunately, almost thirty minutes into his journey, another more intrusive sound broke through his concentration.

Music, laughter, and a harrowing white noise of conversation erupted around the street corner as he shuffled down an empty alleyway, the walls covered in a dazzling collage of flyers and posters — all promoting the same event.

“_Circus Arcanus: Museum of Freaks and Oddities_,” he read aloud, his eyes slowly taking in the painted figures of creatures. The word ‘_Freak_’ stood out to him in particular, sending twinges of an almost-forgotten pain radiating through his soul.

He carefully made his way around the edge of the building, glancing into the distance to find an expansive circle of vendor booths and cloth backdrops surrounding a monumental red tent in the center. The circus was clearly in full swing, with countless people milling about and partaking in the festivities in spite of the late hour. As if pulled by a magical summons, Credence gave in to his growing curiosity and made his way to the edge of the nearest crowd, waiting until none of the staff or patrons were looking his way before slipping out from behind a pile of crates and disappearing into the horde of bodies.

He passed a number of street performers all engaging with the Human crowd; troll-like beings lifting barrels and other heavy objects over their heads, misshapen beings in ragged clothes shuffling among the patrons and accepting their money as they stepped up to play carnival games, and an impressive small group of other humanoid creatures tumbling across a mat as others juggled on the sidelines. On the surface, it all seemed grand and magical with the bright lights and joyful colors; but where the Humans only looked up in wonder, he looked down to see the downtrodden faces of the creatures forced to act as their servants and playthings.

He couldn’t recognize what these poor beings were called, but he saw himself in every one of their faces, nonetheless.

‘_Newt would hate it here_,’ he thought with a churning stomach. ‘_There’s so much pain and sadness, and nobody even notices it._’

He passed a large metal cage imprisoning a growling catlike creature with a plumed tail and looped back around to the rear of the giant red tent, stumbling across a row of much smaller tents tacked onto the back of it. As he approached, just beneath the rumbling roar of Human voices, he heard a rather harsh shout coming from behind the thin barrier of the nearest tent canvas.

“— lazy piece of garbage! Get out there, before I get angry!” a male voice said, followed by a pained whimper and the faint sounds of shuffling. Credence bit the inside of his cheek, glancing around at the oblivious people and weighing his next move carefully. A part of him was well-aware that it was not his place to meddle in the affairs of others, particularly when he was all alone and defenseless in a city he had yet to learn. However, he had slowly been infected with Newt’s insatiable need to help those who could not help themselves, to try and do what he could to improve other creatures’ lives and protect them from the cruelty of the Humans they were forced to share the earth with.

And so, after only a few moments of hesitation, he quickly ducked under the flowing opening of the tent and crept into the dim den of the circus performers.

He was greeted with rows of cages, each housing a different species of magical creature — some of which he had never seen in person before. There was a shallow bathtub filled with a green, sickly looking Kappa, a swinging circular cage of sparking Firedrakes near the ceiling, and only a few feet away, huddled on the straw-covered ground, was a beautiful young woman with the blackest hair Credence had ever seen. She seemed Human enough, with pale skin and no obvious magical characteristics, and she was preoccupied with stroking a blue textured dress in an open trunk beside her.

Credence huddled behind a nearby wooden pillar, glancing around for any signs that he’d been spotted. A few quiet moments passed, but just when he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, the abhorrent crack of a cane against the floor echoed throughout the tent.

“Go on!” the same male voice as before snarled, and from behind the safety of his pillar, Credence watched as a burly man in a crimson velvet tailcoat struck the feet of a large, meandering creature with golden skin and an impressive pair of horns protruding from its face. The man was clearly the runner of the circus show, the ringmaster if his limited knowledge of circuses was at all correct, and it was clear as he followed the growling creature out of sight that he was anything but a gracious one.

‘_I have to get them out of here_,’ Credence decided. After all, if he stood by and simply watched these poor creatures continuing to suffer, how was he any better than the monsters who imprisoned them in the first place?

Credence approached the cage of the young woman carefully, trying to remember all of Newt’s training on how to keep his movements unthreatening and gentle.

“Excuse me?” he whispered, but the sudden call still startled her and sent her reeling to the back of her cage. “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!”

The young woman stared at him with suspicion, the blue dress she had been considering clutched tightly in her hand. Her dark eyes were lined with kohl and the outlines of her bones were beginning to peek out beneath her skin.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he tried to say with a confidence he didn’t feel. “I heard yelling and came to investigate. Are you all okay in here?”

“Why?” she hissed, her posture defensive and yet threatening at the same time.

“Why?” he asked, seeking clarification and receiving a fierce glare for his trouble.

“Why do you care?”

Credence swallowed the sudden tightness in his throat, for he had to admit that her fear and distrust were rightfully earned. It had not been so long ago that he’d asked the same thing, the same loaded questions of doubt and confusion when Newt had come out of the darkness to free him from his torment. He lowered his eyes and pushed down his pride, unfurling his hands and sticking them through the bars for her to see the puckered scars littering the surfaces.

“Because...I know what it’s like, to be punished for something you can’t control,” he explained softly. He slowly raised his eyes just enough to catch the horror and understanding written upon her face. “I know what it’s like to be hated just because you’re different from _them_.”

The woman considered him for a long moment, cradling her dress in front of her like a shield as she slowly made her way towards him. He tried to smile at her, to show her that he was a friend rather than a foe.

“What’s your name?” he asked politely.

“…Nagini,” she whispered, her eyes falling back to where his hands still hovered for her to scrutinize.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Credence.” Although it pained him to do so, he allowed her to reach out and stroke his left palm with tentative fingertips. It was a sign of trust, he tried to tell himself, a token of proof that he only wanted to help in her time of need. He remembered when Newt had done the same for him, had touched him like he was something precious and wonderful rather than a tool to be used for his own gain. He remembered the words the magizoologist had whispered to him from a similar set of bars, and he repeated them now with as much conviction as his savior had before.

“Do you want to be free? I’d like to help you, if I may, but only if you _want_ to be helped.”

“…I…I have no way to repay you,” Nagini said, her head shaking in a denial he suspected was born from disbelief rather than a desire to stay a prisoner.

“I don’t want anything from you,” he promised. “I just don’t want to leave you here if there’s something I can do to save you.”

She looked at him again, but where only seconds before there had been anger and distrust was now a tentative, broken hope that she was afraid to surrender to. She stared into his eyes, no doubt searching for deceit or an intention to dishonor her, and reached up to touch his face. As she opened her lips to respond, to give him her answer, a sudden shout broke through their silent conversation and forced them to spring apart.

“HEY! How did you get in here? Get away from her!” the bearded man came barrelling through the rows of cages, a long golden staff grasped tightly in his hand. Credence fought the sudden, overwhelming urge to run away, knowing his hasty departure would leave only Nagini to take the brunt of her master’s ire. He stepped away from the cage, but kept his head held high as the ringmaster approached him with a red face and angry scowl.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the Selkie forced himself to say. “I got lost, and she was helping me find the exit.”

“Then find it, boy, before I toss you out of it,” the man growled. Credence nodded and retreated the way he’d come, turning back only once to watch Nagini fold in on herself under the ringmaster’s glare. “And you, get ready!”

Credence clenched his jaw and allowed the flap of the tent to fall behind him, his plans to visit the sea all but forgotten under his newfound determination to bring another devil to their knees.

* * *

In the center of the large tent was a circular cage surrounding a platform made of flattened dirt, connected to a long, caged tunnel that led to the hidden den of performers in the back. The crowd that surrounded Credence was full of drunk, bumbling men thirsty for more drink and an easy target to ridicule, but he paid them the barest of mind as he watched the ringmaster re-emerge from the shadows and make his rounds around the platform.

“Next in our little show of freaks and oddities, I present to you – a Maledictus!” he gestured to where Nagini slowly walked out into view, her lips now painted black and the blue snakeskin dress clinging to the curves of her body. The men in the crowd around Credence began to whistle and jeer, while the few women he could hear scoffed and recoiled in disgust at the very sight of her. “Once trapped in the jungles of Indonesia, she is the carrier of a blood curse. Such underbeings are destined, through the course of their lives, to turn permanently into beasts.”

Nagini walked the perimeter of the cage, keeping just out of reach of any audience members that might try and make a grab for her. Credence subtly moved closer to the front of the crowd, keeping his expression as calm and sympathetic as possible.

It hurt him to see another innocent so shamelessly paraded around for Human amusement. He had learned very quickly under Captain Graves’s firm hand that they did not see creatures with magical blood as living beings with thoughts and feelings of their own, that people like him were no better than mindless worms to be poked and prodded and crushed beneath a boot when the Humans grew bored or tired of keeping them. Thankfully, Newt had taught him that not all Humans were evil and that there was hope for them to find their own happiness so long as they were given the chance to thrive and live without judgment. Where the men surrounding him saw Nagini as an object they had every right to drool over and possess for themselves, he saw a strong, tortured woman deserving of her freedom from this hell.

“But look at her. So beautiful, yes? So desirable…” Nagini glanced at the ringmaster over her shoulder with hatred in her eyes, and when she turned back to stand in the center of the platform, she came face to face with where Credence hid amid the crowd. Her expression softened slightly, considering Credence’s questioning one. “…but soon she will be trapped forever in a very different body. Every night, when she sleeps…ladies and gentlemen…she is forced to become —”

‘_It’s up to you_,’ he tried to say with his eyes. ‘_Come with me_.’

The audience started to laugh at where she stood immobile and unchanged, and when the ringmaster looked at her, it was with the seething disdain of a selfish, arrogant monster who cared only for his own reputation. Nagini looked at the man who had treated her so poorly, for how long Credence couldn’t be sure, and then quickly glanced back at where the Selkie stood waiting. Her eyes blazed with a conviction that had not been there before, and Credence could not help but rejoice.

“She is forced to become…” the ringmaster repeated threateningly, and Nagini’s head nodded just enough for Credence to see.

‘_Yes._’

  
“She is forced to become…” The cane in the ringmaster’s hand came up and clashed against the metal bars of the cage, his face turning red with impatience. Nagini took a deep breath, closing her eyes and bending backwards as her body contorted in a way that should not have been possible. At the same time, Credence reached deep down into his center of power and allowed a small trickle of his inner darkness to break the surface.

‘**_Wind, Lightning, Thunder — brothers and sisters of the Sea — heed my call in my time of need_**,’ he called from within, feeling the temperature of the surrounding air grow cold as the tent above them started to shake and rock. He watched from a mental distance as Nagini’s dress and skin faded into the slick brown texture of scales, her Human form falling away to reveal a long, powerful snake coiling in a seething mass. Her foolish captor was oblivious of the changing weather outside his fragile palace of pain, his grin now appeased by her apparent obedience.

“Over time, she will not be able to transform back. She will be forever trapped in the body of a snake.”

Nagini rose up as Credence let his power grow, waiting for her final signal that she was ready to leave this horrible place behind her. A high-pitched cry mingled with a ferocious hiss ripped from her jaws as she struck the ringmaster in the shoulder through the spaces between the bars, sending him crumpling to the ground with a shocked cry of pain. The crowd barely had time to scream in tandem as Credence unleashed his full power in an instant, sending gusts of wind screaming through the tent and hurling it up into the air beyond the towering buildings beyond. He waited just long enough for the panic to spread, for the crowd of pitiful Humans to fall over one another in an effort to get as far away from the sudden storm as they could, before reaching up into the sky and pulling down a bolt of molten lightning to strike the lock on the cage keeping Nagini prisoner. The lock exploded with a crack and then melted to the ground, freeing the contorting form inside its belly as the Selkie turned to look at the other prisoners cowering across the circus grounds.

Newt would want to free them, too, he was sure. He would free as many of them as he could and hope that they all got away safely.

Despite being rusty with his aim, he quickly summoned smaller bolts of lightning in every direction, sending metal lock after metal lock smashing to the ground as he targeted as many cages as he could reach in a short amount of time. The Firedrakes were the first to burst to freedom, weaving in sparking patterns as they flew around the chaotic circus and setting every surface they touched on fire. They were followed closely by the catlike creature’s cage he’d passed earlier, and from the shaking prison exploded a breathtaking, monstrous creature spotted with at least five different colors and the face of an angry lion. Its body and face were horrendously scarred, its steps were wobbling from an obvious limp, and its eyes were wide with a frenzy born from terror as it took in the growing panic around it.

Credence watched it go with a proud smirk.

He felt more than saw Nagini run up to his side, and he turned to acknowledge her as the winds continued to howl its triumphant symphony. Her expression was one of awe and relief as she took in the damage he had caused, and he wasted no time in grabbing her hand and sprinting off into the weaving mob of patrons weaving into the city. For a moment, he thought he heard someone calling out his name, but Nagini seemed far too busy laughing in breathless ecstasy to have done so. He pushed past a group of stumbling men and crying children, not caring in which direction they ran so long as they got far away from the ringmaster’s reach.

The screaming eventually died down as they ducked into dark alleys and weaved through unfamiliar side streets, and after a few minutes of mindless sprinting, he finally allowed them to slow to a weary halt behind a row of small shops. The pelt around his neck was warm and pulsing as he leaned against the nearest brick wall, his cheeks aching from the grin that refused to fall from his face. Nagini appeared just as energized and joyful, her hair in mild disarray as she claimed the opposing wall for herself.

“That was incredible!” she gasped, shaking her head as she looked at him as if for the first time. “What are you? A Fairy?”

“Selkie,” he corrected, and she nodded in recognition. He ran his hand over his face and pulled his coat even more open for the chill, trying to think about what the best course of action was for them to take. “Do you, uh, have any family I can help you find?”

“…no,” she replied sadly, curling her arms around her chest and keeping her gaze lowered to the ground. “Not anymore.”

“…okay. Well, in that case, do you want to come with me for now? My – well, my, uh, _partner _—” Would he ever get used to saying that, to feeling the words flutter and tingle on his tongue whenever he spoke them aloud? “He has a house where we help magical creatures heal, and we keep them safe if they have nowhere else to go.”

Nagini regarded him for a moment, weighing her options in silence as she glanced around at their surroundings. There was nobody around to see them, nobody to come to drag her back to the circus, and she had admitted to not having anywhere else to go. However, the last thing that Credence wanted was to force her, and he knew that if she had survived this long in the clutches of such a horrendous man, she could make it on her own as well.

“…if you have any room for me, I’ll happily accept it,” she finally whispered, her tone still hesitant and wavering but her posture remaining tall and determined. Credence nodded, a familiar feeling of pride filling his heart, and reached for the pocket watch that would lead them back home.

Except when he reached into his coat, his hand brushed against nothing but an empty chain and open air. 

The pocket watch was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you see, please feel free to leave kudos and comments! It keeps me going!


	9. Chapter 9 - Newt

The _Laurena_ was a small cargo ship, almost hidden in between her larger military sistren and lacking most of the extravagances that came with their prestige. Lieutenant Kama’s quarters were only marginally bigger than Newt’s had been on his personal sailboat in America, and the space was simply furnished with an old wooden desk and chairs that the captain politely offered to them. Newt and Jacob accepted his hospitality with a mutual caution, desperately hoping this stranger would be able to assist them but also knowing that manners could be used as a clever disguise.

For his part, Lieutenant Kama did not seem threatened by or wary of their presence in the slightest.

“Miss Goldstein was a last-minute addition to my crew,” he said as he leaned back into his unadorned captain’s chair. “We were only in New York for a single day, but when we inquired about any willing workers seeking passage to Europe, she asked to accompany us immediately. She’s a hard worker, one of the best I’ve ever had the pleasure of employing.”

“Hasn’t driven your men crazy, yet?” Jacob asked with a knowing smirk. The Lieutenant shrugged in acknowledgment.

“She can be, how did you say, _intense_ at times. Still, she’s mostly kept to herself these past few weeks. So long as my crew does the job I hired them to do, what do I care how they deal with their personal business?”

“Do you have any idea where Tina is right now?” Newt asked and was disappointed when the Lieutenant shook his head.

“Usually, when we make port, Miss Goldstein prefers to stay on board. However, we are docked here for three days to resupply and fix some mechanical issues, so I encouraged her to stretch her legs,” he explained. “She told me she was going out to see the sights, and that she promised not to go too far.”

“So she might be gone a while then,” Newt mused quietly. He didn’t usually mind waiting, especially when the objective was to encounter an elusive, skittish being of any kind, but he couldn’t help but wonder about how Credence would handle being on his own for such an extended period of time. Jacob seemed to notice his growing concern, reaching over to place a comforting hand on his arm.

“He’ll be fine, Newt. He’s a tough kid,” the baker whispered. Newt tried to nod, tried to internalize his agreement that Credence was stronger than most people, but his heart had already begun to worry in spite of his best attempts.

Lieutenant Kama looked in between them, contemplating their expressions in silence.

“You are more than welcome to wait for Miss Goldstein’s return, as long as you are not offended if I continue my work in the meantime. Or, if you have somewhere else to be, we have one more day before we leave London. I can send Miss Goldstein your way as soon as I see her,” he offered. The selfish part of Newt wanted so desperately to thank the man for his understanding and run right home to make sure Credence was alright. However, he had committed to helping Jacob find Queenie — he _wanted_ to help Jacob find Queenie — and this was the best lead that they had to go on so far.

“…if you wouldn’t mind us staying, that would be lovely,” Newt finally decided. Jacob squeezed his arm in gratitude, silently nodding his agreement to the shrugging Lieutenant.

“Very well. You may make yourselves comfortable. All I ask is that you do not touch anything,” he said.

And so the waiting stretched on, with Newt entrusting Jacob with his suitcase beneath his chair as he slowly paced the small perimeter of the cabin. Unlike most of the offices he had seen in the past, Lieutenant Kama appeared to prefer parchment and scrolls to books and tomes, with stacks upon stacks of rolled papers crammed into a simple bookshelf on one wall of the cabin. The other side held a simple cot with fine cotton sheets, as well as a set of drawers that no doubt held the French-African’s meager belongings.

After leisurely walking around the cabin once, then twice, Newt surrendered to his inevitable boredom and set up a more permanent vantage point at the window facing the expansive docks around them. Lieutenant Kama scribbled away at a pile of documents on his desk, seemingly ignoring their existences in the meantime.

“It’s starting to rain,” the magizoologist noted sometime later, the dark open skies suddenly bursting with an abundance of thunder and moisture.

The droplets roared against the sides of the ship, and he couldn’t help but think of all the storms that Credence had summoned while keeping their tiny sailboat safely dry and sheltered in the center of it all. Newt had been, admittedly, a little overly enthusiastic at the display the first time it had occurred — particularly since Credence had been fearfully hiding in his seal form at the time. Still, the Selkie had seemed silently pleased and flattered by his attention when all was said and done, and he’d willingly released his natural power more frequently after that.

Newt wondered if he was watching the same rain from a similar window, fighting the urge to run into the street and allow his body to be drenched from head to toe. It would certainly be a sight to see, and one that Newt would feel guilty to have missed.

“Lieutenant Kama!” a sudden shout broke through their mindless hazes. The door swung open and sent a wave of raindrops sailing into the air, a familiar figure bursting into their midst with agitated fervor. “Lieutenant Kama, sir, I —”

Tina froze as she took in the variegated cluster of men before her, all staring in various amounts of excitement and met expectations. She was just as fierce and bold as Newt remembered, her dark hair curled around her sculpted face and her tiny body bound by a tight blue coat that dripped onto the wooden floorboards. She blinked as she took in each of their faces, her anxious shout withering away and her tense posture falling slack in surprise.

“Tina?” Newt breathed, unable to keep the smile from blooming across his face.

“Newt!” she said, her voice equally joyful and disbelieving. Her smile was more blinding than he had ever seen before, certainly in his direction, but it disappeared the moment her superior cleared his throat.

“These gentlemen have been waiting for you, Miss Goldstein,” Lieutenant Kama said somberly. “If you could close the door?”

Tina jumped, realizing she was letting the pouring rain into her superior’s office, and quickly moved to join them after latching the door tightly behind her. Jacob slowly rose from his chair, waving nervously and throwing the Nereid a smile laced with insecurity.

“Hey, Tina, how’s it going?”

“Jacob? How did _you_ get here?” she asked. The baker sighed, jamming his hands into his trousers pockets and dropping his eyes to the floor.

“Queenie dragged me here to get married,” he explained. “…using a love potion.”

Tina’s face contorted into something disbelieving and horrified, glancing at Newt’s disappointed frown with wide eyes.

“That’s — she wouldn’t —!” She shook her head, her wet hand coming up to press distressingly against her forehead. “I knew she was upset, but…”

“I didn’t think she would, either, Tina,” Newt spoke up gently. “But I saw it with my own eyes. After we made her give Jacob the antidote, she ran off saying she was going to find you. We’ve been searching ever since.”

“I haven’t seen her,” she said. “We haven’t spoken in weeks.”

“Miss Goldstein,” Lieutenant Kama spoke up, “if you require leave for a personal emergency, I am more than willing to give it to you.”

“No, sir, that won’t be necessary,” Tina denied quickly — so quickly that Newt and Jacob were both surprised.

“Won’t be _necessary_? Tina, Queenie is lost somewhere out there and we have no idea where she’s gone!” Jacob cried. Newt shifted uncomfortably against the window, acutely aware of just how much of an outsider he was in this type of situation. “I know you don’t approve of us getting hitched, but what if she’s hurt or —”

“Jacob, of course I approve! I think you’re a wonderful man for my sister,” Tina said sharply. Jacob blinked in confusion, dropping his flailing hands as he waited for the Nereid to explain herself. “And _of course_ I’m worried about her, but I also know her better than you do. This is what she does when she doesn't get her way.”

“What do you mean?” Newt spoke up, genuinely curious to see where this conversation led. Tina glanced at him with a strange expression, one he couldn’t identify, before quickly looking back at Jacob’s worried frown.

“I know it’s my fault she’s like this, but…I’ve always tried to give my sister everything she ever wanted. But whenever I couldn’t, whenever I had to shut her down for the greater good, she would throw a fit and run away from home,” Tina explained softly. “At first, I panicked and would run myself into the ground looking for her. And then, when I would finally find her, she would ignore me until I came up with a compromise…over time, I realized that she was doing it on purpose.”

“She would scare you this way? Just because you didn’t give her what she wanted?” Lieutenant Kama spoke up incredulously. Tina’s cheeks grew slightly pink when she realized that they were having such a personal discussion in front of her boss but cleared her throat and pushed onward anyway.

“I asked her once if she ever thought about how her running away made me feel. That was when I learned that she didn’t think of it that way — in her mind, I only came after her because I wanted to make amends, not because I was worried about her well-being. When she realized how frightened she was making me, she stopped running off and would just go to her room, instead. I don’t remember the last time I went after her.”

“So you think this is the same thing?” Jacob demanded. “That’s she’s just wandering the city because she wants me to _apologize_ to her?”

“I’m saying,” Tina said with a low sigh, “that Queenie is an adult. Not only that, she’s a powerful Nereid who can enchant men with her voice and her looks and can pretty much get out of any situation if she wants to. I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you if I thought she couldn’t handle herself.”

“So what do you wish to do, Miss Goldstein? If you do not wish to take some time off, then I’m afraid I can only give you another day to find your sister,” Lieutenant Kama said. “I cannot postpone our schedule, even for you.”

“I understand, sir.” She turned back to Jacob, her expression sad and forcibly patient. “I’ll help you try to find her, but I can’t just stop doing my job because Queenie is throwing a fit. You’ve done everything you can to be fair to her, Jacob, and she needs to learn to accept that life’s not always going to work out the way she wants.”

Newt watched his friend take in her words with unwilling fairness, the baker’s eyes growing wet in frustration even though they all knew that Tina had a point. Queenie had done something many would see as cruel or disgusting, and it was only due to Jacob’s excessive love and kindness that he was willing to forgive Queenie’s actions at all. Nonetheless, Newt could tell that Tina was advising him to move with caution not out of malice, but out of the desire to give her sister the best chance at happiness that she could.

“I just want to make sure she’s safe,” Jacob finally whispered. “We can fight about everything again later, I just want to see her safe and sound.”

“A fine sentiment, sir, but easier said than done,” Lieutenant Kama said with a frown. “These docks are quite the maze to maneuver, and you number only three. How do you plan on seeking out a person who may not wish to be found so easily?”

“We could ask my brother,” Newt suggested. The others all looked at him in curiosity, and he swallowed the sudden discomfort that came with being at the center of attention. “Theseus, he’s a Chief Inspector here in London. Since I travel so much, he’s made a point of being trained in tracking down elusive criminals around the docks and customs areas.”

“Your brother?” Tina asked.

“Yes. I think I may have mentioned in my letters we have quite a complicated relationship—” he tried to say teasingly, but Tina cut him off with a surprising amount of sharpness. 

“Will he help us if you ask?”

“Uh, yes, I think so,” Newt stuttered uncertainty. Jacob looked equally as confused and shrugged helplessly when Newt glanced his way. Tina nodded, apparently ignoring the sudden tension she had caused in the room, and turned to address her superior with a stoic expression.

“Permission to take tomorrow off, sir, and return before we depart?” she asked. Lieutenant Kama studied her carefully, his eyes dark and surprisingly cold, before nodding his permission.

“Granted.”

“Thank you. Come on, you two! We have no time to lose!” She didn’t wait for them to follow her, yanking open the door and stepping fearlessly out into the rain. Meanwhile, Jacob and Newt tripped over themselves trying to simultaneously gather their belongings and thank the kind Lieutenant for his hospitality. He remained as stoic and unfazed as ever, sending chills of uneasiness up Newt’s spine as he threw himself after the determined Nereid.

“Tina! Slow down, will ya!” Jacob grumbled, his hair almost instantly saturated and sticking to his head as they descended the wooden gangplank and moved back to the deserted streets of London.

“We already have a disadvantage in this weather,” Tina called back. “The sooner we get to Inspector Scamander’s house, the better chance we have of finding Queenie!”

“Ah, yes about that! Before we go to Theseus’s house, I need to stop by my own,” Newt shouted breathlessly. “I need to check on Credence and see if he’s alright.”

“Credence?”

The magizoologist and baker flinched back as a unit, bewildered and not a little bit off-guard when Tina turned on them in the middle of the street. Her eyes were widened in a way that signaled more than the expected shock of finding out an old acquaintance had survived a horrible tragedy — instead, her face had gone pale and frightened in a way that Newt couldn’t comprehend.

“Tina?”

“Credence is alive? He’s here?!”

“Oh, uh, yes. I found him after the wreckage and took him in. He lives with me, now,” Newt said with a grimace. He knew it had been dishonest, in a way, but he truly thought it was the best decision for everyone involved. Credence would have, most likely, seen his taking the choice of revealing himself away as a terrible breach of trust. Tina would be angry at having such wonderful news delayed from her, but she would eventually recover from the emotional blow.

At least, he hoped she would.

Preferably sooner than later.

“Oh, my — why didn’t you tell me?!” she demanded angrily. “I knew that was him I saw!”

“Wait, what? Saw him where?” Newt asked.

“That’s what I was coming to tell Lieutenant Kama before I saw you there,” she explained. “I came across a shady circus in town, and I was going to investigate it when I thought I saw Credence in the crowd. A thunderstorm hit and he ran away with one of the circus performers before I could get to him.”

She reached into the pocket of her coat, and Newt felt his blood run cold when she produced a very familiar pocket watch.

“He dropped this while he was running away. I was going to try and find him and return it to him,” she said.

“Oh, no! No, no, no, no, no —!” Newt set his suitcase down next to a puddle at his feet with more force than he intended, grabbing the pocket watch out of Tina’s hand and cradling it in his hands.

“Newt, what is that?” Jacob asked.

“I gave him this watch so he could find his way home! Without it — I have to go!” He stuffed the pocket watch into his coat and grabbed his suitcase before sprinting down the street. Jacob and Tina ran after him almost instantly, with the Nereid grabbing him painfully around the arm and forcing him to stop and listen to her.

“Newt, wait! Look, we don’t know where Credence or Queenie are, but we’ll have a better chance of finding them if we work together!” she scolded gently. “We’ll search for him on the way, and if we can’t find him, we’ll ask your brother’s help in locating him, too.”

Newt fought to keep his breaths even and calm, fighting the rising panic in his chest with the logic he had always tried to utilize in difficult situations. He tried to assure himself that in spite of Credence’s tragic history, he was in control of his pelt and thus had full access to his powers whenever he needed them. He tried to force himself to believe that Credence would not allow himself to fall prey to his own fears and doubts and that despite all of the odds, he would be able to find his way back to their house safely.

He tried to believe it. He had to believe it.

But first, he needed to see it for himself.

“I need to check if he’s made it back on his own,” Newt said with a determined glare. “I’ll go with you whether he is or not, I promise, but — I have to check first. _Please_, Tina!”

His friend and former pen pal stared into his eyes with the sympathy and compassion he knew she always had inside, and with a silent nod, they set off towards his townhouse in haste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you see, please feel free to leave kudos and comments! It keeps me going!


	10. Chapter 10 - Credence

The rain began to fall as soon as he realized that he was lost.

It wasn’t often that his powers activated without his consent, but there were just as many drawbacks to his soul being connected to the weather as there were benefits. When he was joyful and happy and safe, the sun shone brightly in the sky and there was not a single storm cloud in sight. When he felt hopeless and afraid, unable to find his way home and worried he would never see the person he loved most ever again, the skies opened up and shed their tears in solidarity.

He had almost immediately started searching for the pocket watch in the filthy corners of the alleyway they had found themselves in, his breathing becoming more and more labored and high-pitched as the watch remained elusive. Poor Nagini had been understandably disturbed with this behavior at first, but after a rushed, babbled explanation of what he was searching for, she joined his fevered hunt and came up equally empty-handed. As the downpour worsened with his increasing dread, the quiet Maledictus took his hand and led him to the dry safety of the small overhang of a nearby shop doorway.

“Credence, it’s alright,” she soothed, reaching up to wipe his tears away with a trembling thumb. “We’ll figure something out. We just have to keep looking.”

His body shook as she slowly reached out and wrapped her arms around him, shocking him out of his panicked daze as her warmth sank into his skin. His hands hovered uselessly, hesitantly, behind her back before slowly returning her embrace as gently as he was able.

Before he’d met Newt on the MACUSA, the only touches that he’d experienced were painful and controlling, devoid of any affection or kindness. Newt’s touches had been the opposite – holy, a gift that he did not deserve even after all he had suffered. But Nagini’s hug was just as comforting, just as kind, if not a little on the tentative side. It was a strange feeling, to be hugged so caringly by a total stranger, even if he needed all the comfort and support he could get.

They waited to move on until the downpour had softened into a light drizzle, and in the time between, Credence realized how cold Nagini truly was in her thin performance dress. At the sight of her shivering, he quickly removed his coat and threw it around her shoulders, causing her to flinch before sagging beneath the sudden warmth.

“I’ll be fine,” he’d assured her when she’s looked at him in concerned disapproval. “You need it more than I do.”

She scrutinized him for a long moment before offering him a small, grateful smile and slipping more fully under the thick fabric. They stayed close to one another as they made their way down the unfamiliar streets, searching for any available shelter in the dead of night. Eventually, they approached a darker, more derelict part of town, and managed to sneak into the abandoned attic above an old factory. The attic was filled only with clouds of dust and a thriving colony of spiderwebs, but the roof was relatively intact and the floor was dry.

“We should try and get some sleep,” Nagini said as she curled up in the cleanest corner of the attic she could find. “And in the morning, we’ll go back into town and try to find a map.”

“…I’m sorry,” he whispered in the darkness. “I didn’t mean to make you homeless. I just wanted to help.”

“I would much rather spend the rest of my days trapped up in this attic than go back to that vile place,” she hissed. He came to slump next to her against the wall, his throat dry from his silent breakdown and his energy all but spent. “Do you mind if I curl up next to you? I promise I won’t bite.”

He glanced at her with a small smile, only to find his grin widening when he realized that she wasn’t simply making a joke. He vaguely remembered the ringmaster saying that she couldn’t retain her Human form while she was sleeping, and from his limited knowledge among Newt’s beasts, he knew that snakes couldn’t get too cold or they would die. He offered his hand, accepted the coat when she gave it back to him, and watched as she took a pained breath and contorted into a coiling mass of scale and muscle. Her beady black eyes looked up at him from the floor, so full of emotion in spite of her animalistic appearance.

“I’m not afraid, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he promised softly.

He curled up onto his side on the floor and draped the coat over him as a makeshift blanket, lifting it up in invitation and waiting for her to burrow inside with him. Her thick tail pressed up against his chest as close as she was able, the sides of the coat barely covering them both completely, and together they fell into an uneasy slumber to the gentle song of the rainfall.

* * *

Credence awoke suddenly for a variety of reasons.

Firstly, the dusty attic floor was the worst surface he had ever had the misfortune of sleeping on. His tiny closet of a room on the MACUSA had been anything but comfortable or luxurious, of course, but they had at least provided him with a mattress. Even the salt-encrusted rocks his species preferred in the open waters were pleasant in their own way, offering a stable surface on which to rest their weary bones after being weightless beneath the ocean waves. But this floor – this floor was just plain awful, and he hadn’t been as fully immersed in slumber as he would have liked.

Secondly, his mind was still reeling from the shock of being separated from his only means to find his way home. It had taken almost an hour for the exhaustion to shut his body down by force, his mind filled with the buzzing nightmares of how devastated Newt would be upon discovering that he was missing, or what would become of him if he never made it back to their yellow sanctuary. As such, his entire body hovered on the edge of an anxious cliff, and it did not take much pushing to send him spiraling into full awareness.

Lastly, and most notably, was the cry of agony that echoed off the decaying rafters and sent his survival instincts into overdrive.

He jerked up into a sitting position and threw off his precious coat, searching the room with a hazy vision for the source of the threat. He quickly noticed Nagini bent over a few paces away from him, her hands curled into claws that dug into her arms as she wept in a hyperventilating, swaying self-embrace in the center of the floor. Her breaths came out in pained, high-pitched sobs as she curled even further into herself, and it took every ounce of control inside Credence’s body not to run over to her and gather her up in his arms.

“Nagini?” he asked instead, giving her space while slowly pushing himself to his feet. “What happened? Are you alright?”

Through her unexplained pain, the Maledictus managed to shake her head. He watched with quickly growing concern as she reached out and tried to crawl away from him, only to have her energy fade in the same instant and her body sag back into a boneless heap of limbs and fabric. He approached her slowly, keeping his steps just audible enough for her to know exactly where he was standing at all times, and got down on his knees to hover at her level.

He noticed after a careful examination that her right hand was still clenched tightly on top of her left shoulder.

“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked. Nagini raised her head slowly, her eyes puffy and red as she stared up at him with unrelenting sorrow.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to croak out. Her shaking hand moved to grasp the edge of her dress collar and pulled it down just enough for Credence to see the flesh hiding beneath. He sucked in a horrified breath when he saw a bright red, inflamed scar in the shape of a cursive ‘**_S_**’ burned into the skin over her left shoulder blade. “Skender – the man who owned me – he brands all of his freaks…and if they misbehave, he’ll brand them over and over in the same place to teach them a lesson.”

She turned her face away with a whimper, but Credence was too preoccupied with keeping his inner fury from bursting out of him into a disastrous indoor hurricane.

He knew the pain of physical torture and punishment well. He had his own scars to prove it. From what he saw, he could only assume that she had accidentally put some unfortunate pressure on the rather fresh wound, just as he had done so often in the early days of his imprisonment.

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

Nagini didn’t respond, choosing instead to cover up her wound with her performance dress once more and staying curled up on the floor. Credence sighed and fetched his discarded coat to drape around her shoulders and hide her back from sight, giving her some privacy to compose herself as he stared out at the rising sun from the broken attic window. London looked no more familiar or welcoming than it had the night before, a rolling grey fog floating across the twisting maze of alleyways and rotting buildings.

“We should start searching for a map, or ask for directions,” he said to his frowning reflection. He heard a sniffled confirmation from behind him, and when he turned back around, Nagini was standing in his coat and rubbing her cheeks dry with the back of her hand.

“We’ll go back into town. It’s our best bet,” she said, and without waiting for him to agree, she turned on her heel and made her way to the creaking staircase leading down into the abandoned factory floor. Credence followed in haste, subtly keeping an eye out for any wayward Humans who might try and jump on them from the shadows. As they made their way towards the hole in the wall that they had entered through the night before, a soft pitiful sound reached his ears. A gentle chirping, barely audible even in the silence of the dawn, calling out to him with a gentle voice he couldn’t ignore.

‘_Mother! Mother!_’

“Credence?” Nagini called softly, but he barely acknowledged her as he slowly approached the dark shadows beneath the staircase. Amidst a small, scattered pile of twigs and hay, a small, featherless baby bird shivered in the cold, peeking up at Credence’s giant form with tiny wet eyes.

‘_Mother?_’ it squeaked, its flightless wings flapping in fear and desperation. The Selkie gently extended his hand flat across the floor, coaxing the bird safely into his palm and bringing it up to his chest.

“You poor thing,” he couldn’t help but say aloud, and the bird tilted its head in curiosity at the foreign sound. Credence sensed Nagini approaching them from behind and peeking over his shoulder to see what other lost soul he had found along his journey.

“Did it fall out of its nest?”

“I think so, but I don’t see one,” he replied, using his index finger to pet the bird’s head and down its spine. He couldn’t simply leave it here to die, but he also wasn’t in the best position to provide a good life for the helpless creature. A quick search of the rafters and floorboards yielded no identifiable nests to place the chick back into, and after thinking over his choices for a long minute, Credence gently placed the shivering baby into the shallow right pocket of his vest.

“It won’t suffocate, will it?” Nagini asked, taking the lead once again as they made their way into the damp streets. Credence offered her his left arm while his right hand cradled the chirping chick, who was at least much more warm in the depths of his pocket.

“I hope not.”

Together they wandered into the thick mists of the morning as they searched for loud, busy streets that they could follow to civilization. Credence kept his head down but his eyes and ears alert, scrutinizing every movement of passers-by as if they were a threat -- which, in his mind, they all could have been. Nagini moved more timidly, but he could feel her heightened anxiety in the vice-like grip around his forearm.

“Where did you see your partner last?” she asked suddenly.

“Uh, at home. But he was heading to the docks.”

“The docks are pretty vast. We may not be able to find him.” she murmured, her eyes turned down in thought. Credence hummed, his own thoughts turbulent and afraid. He knew that it was unlikely that he would run into Newt at the perfect moment, regardless of the dock’s size. He wondered if Newt would run up and down the salt-crusted concrete piers, desperately searching for any sign of him within the waters or among the faceless crowds.

He tried not to dwell on such thoughts.

Nagini led the way down a maze of damp cobblestone streets and alleyways that eventually led them into a bustling market full of booths and tables. Credence’s eyes caught sight of a particular booth lined with wire cages, a flurry of colored feathers within and a symphony of chirps mixing with the murmuring mob passing them by. He motioned for Nagini to follow his lead, which she did without hesitation, and he carefully snatched a small burlap sack of seed from one of the many tables surrounding the bird booth. A part of him felt guilty for stealing something from a hardworking business, even if it was probably a minor loss in the grand scheme of things, but the tiny pink chick nestling inside his vest wouldn’t survive on pocket lint alone.

After his sleight of hand, they continued to other booths, searching in vain for any signs of a map that could lead them to the docks. He noticed that there were times when Nagini slowed, meandered, and it eventually caused Credence to pull her into a nearby alleyway to rest.

“Are you alright? You’re not moving very fast,” he said softly. The Maledictus lowered her eyes once again and pulled the edges of his jacket closer to her chest.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to. I just…” She leaned against the wall at her back, pressing her branded shoulder against the stones. When she spoke again, her voice was resigned and dull. “Snakes get sluggish when they’re cold.”

Credence’s heart clenched in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, but Nagini shook her head.

“It’s not your fault. It’s my nature.” She sighed and forced her shoulder away from the wall, seemingly gathering herself and taking his arm again. “We should keep moving.”

“Oh, no, please,” a slimy voice echoed from the shadows, “_stay._”

The hairs on the back of Credence’s neck flared up, and he pulled Nagini behind him as he turned to face the mysterious challenger. A tall, dark figure emerged from the other end of the alley, revealing a pale-skinned man with slick blonde hair and cold blue eyes wearing a black trenchcoat. His face was covered in wrinkles despite his youthful gait, and Credence doubted that the man had ever smiled in his entire life.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Credence demanded, his voice deepening with what he hoped was intimidating confidence. If the stranger’s humored smirk was any indication, it wasn’t enough.

“Well, who I am doesn’t really matter, does it? But I suppose I could give you the courtesy.” The man removed his hat and gave them a dramatic bow, his eyes never straying from the Selkie’s face. “Gunnar Grimmson, beast hunter extraordinaire.”

Credence felt Nagini’s trembling hands settle on his back.

“As for what I want…” The hat returned to Grimmson’s head, and he took a slow, deliberate step forward with his hands inside his coat pockets. “My employer, Mister Skender, has asked me to find and return some of his missing… _property_.”

His eyes slid over to where Nagini hid behind Credence’s taller frame. Credence bared his teeth and silently called upon the wind, grabbing at Nagini’s hand and dragging her back out into the open streets.

“Nagini, run!” His shout was almost drowned out by the ferocious screams of the swirling air around them, the powerful gusts sending newspapers and other debris flying in all directions as the London citizens fled in surprised terror.

The Maledictus stumbled close behind him, her long ruffled dress slamming against the backs of their knees as they weaved in random patterns among the crowds. They ducked into a small alcove in one of the larger brick buildings, huddling their bodies together as their labored breaths mingled in the frigid air. Credence paused, waited, and peeked his head around the edge of the wall to see if they were out of harm’s way.

He should have known they wouldn’t be that lucky.

Miraculously even-winded and unruffled, Grimmson stalked down the pavement like a ruthless cat taunting its next meal. His eyes were focused on Credence’s face, his cold smirk never wavering, and it was immediately apparent that the hunter would not rest until he got what he wanted. Credence swallowed his anger and desperation before gently removing himself from Nagini’s tight embrace and moving to face their assailant.

“Credence, don’t!” Nagini tried to beg, but Credence wasn’t the sad, helpless prisoner he had been only one year prior. His pelt was safe around his throat, his powers were at their height, and he had something precious only he could protect.

The Selkie reached deep within his soul, letting his other senses fall away as the darkness beneath his skin spread down his arms into his fingertips. The howling wind grew to deafening volumes and impossibly more destructive, heading his silent call with disembodied bloodlust – or, perhaps that was simply his own feelings mixing with the magic he now wielded as both shield and sword. Dust and gravel swirled around the two men in violent tendrils, following Credence’s hands and striking at the feet of his confident adversary. Grimmson was more limber and elegant that his stature implied he would be, dodging the Selkie’s attacks with ease and using a strange band on his right wrist to conjure up an invisible barrier to protect him from the magical storm. 

Well, Credence could still work with that.

He quickly gathered all of the wind and debris into a single, swirling column of power, and with a cry of fury and determination, sent it barreling at Grimmson at full force. As expected, the hunter used his magic charm to protect himself, but the shield was not completely invulnerable. The sheer force of the blast slowly, but effectively, pushed shield and man backwards until Grimmson’s feet were sliding across the pavement. He tried to regain his footing, failed, floundered, and after only a few moments, the shield faltered and sent him flying across the street into a pile of boxes and crates.

Credence sucked in a triumphant breath, only for his lungs to seize beneath his ribs.

The wind settled around him, its work finished and its temper mollified, as the darkness inside him retreated back into the depths of his soul – taking almost all of his strength along with it. He suddenly became aware of the lead in his legs, the pounding behind his temples, and he staggered beneath the sudden weakness attacking every fiber of his being. Nagini barely reached him in time, her eyes wide as she wrapped his arm across her shoulders and herded him away from where the beast hunter had flown.

“Credence, stay with me! We have to keep running!” she gasped desperately.

Credence could only nod, allowing his shivering charge to lead him away and back into the maze of fog and foreign roads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you see, please feel free to leave kudos and comments! It keeps me going!


	11. Chapter 11 - Vinda

Vinda was a simple woman when all was said and done.

She enjoyed a certain amount of luxury—fine art and high-quality teas, to name a few examples—as well as the occasional highly acclaimed literature to occupy her mind when she wasn’t focused on maintaining her reputation as an honored Naval Captain. She was well-mannered, yet blunt in her opinions, strict in her discipline, and in return, her crew gave her the respect she demanded. She recognized good character, regardless of whether that character was misguided or wasted, and she could always find it in her cold heart to appreciate a sense of honor in the ones she came across who possessed it.

Which was why the sleazy, cowardly, undeniably reprehensible scumbag that sat across from her desk disgusted her so much.

Johann Skender was anything but an honorable man. He glanced around her Captain’s quarters with eyes that sparkled with greed and lust, barely acknowledging her as she took a seat across from him and spread out his report before her. His reputation of being a washed-up circus ringmaster had already dampened her enthusiasm for his inclusion in her plans, but even she knew it would not be easy to find another piece of bait that would follow her every order for as simple a reward as a satchel of coins.

“Monsieur Skender,” she greeted with poorly hidden contempt. The bearded man at least had the decency to turn his attention to her face, although the depraved look he threw her almost had her regretting speaking at all. Still, she had seen far worse in her time. “I was not expecting a report from you so soon. You have only been in London for two nights, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am, and it’s been quite the successful trip,” he said with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Successful, you say? Shall I assume this means you’re delivering the man I hired you to catch?” She watched with growing impatience as his smirk crumpled beneath a glare of anger that barely disguised the fear behind it.

“Ah, well, you see, that is where we have a bit of a problem.”

“...a problem?” she demanded slowly, not allowing the pleasure she felt at his steadily growing discomfort to show upon her face. “What sort of problem?”

“I’m afraid we’ve had a bit of a setback. It appears my freaks attracted a very powerful, uh, _activist_ who didn’t take too kindly to their living conditions,” Skender said with a grimace. Vinda glanced down at the paper in her hands, a scribbled mess written on the back of a circus pamphlet and thrown on her desk. She forced herself to read the entire sorry excuse for a report, a task more easily said than done, and slowly felt the cold grips of her anger loosen the more and more she read.

“A tall young American man with black hair...who can control the weather?” she said aloud, her eyes growing wide without her consent. Skender did not appear to notice, jumping directly to his prepared excuses while barely pausing for breath.

“I know! I know it sounds crazy, but I swear I saw it with my own eyes!” he cried. “It was like magic. One minute, everything was going fine and the show was—but, but then, all this wind started blowing and lightning started striking all the cages. More than half of my freaks managed to escape!”

‘_It can’t be!_’

Vinda had heard the same depictions once before, but while others would have probably dismissed them as mere fairy tales to scare children into behaving for their mothers, she knew much better. Her tales came from one of the strongest, most brilliant minds she had ever had the fortune of meeting—a man unparalleled in his talents and prestige, who took her under his wing so long ago after a chance meeting along the English Channel. The Pirate King, Gellert Grindelwald, the most feared and renowned vagabond across the seven seas, who had generously bestowed upon her a title of her own:

_La Reine des Pirates_.

The Pirate Queen.

In their frequent letters over the years, he had regaled her with his exploits across the American coast, including the fateful day when he captured the male Selkie who would become his indentured slave and eventual downfall. He had described, almost lovingly, the power that the creature he called Credence possessed, of the miracles he could be forced to create by Grindelwald’s command. The news of the MACUSA’s wreckage had flown across the winds of their mutual contacts until they reached her ears, and despite having no evidence to prove her theory correct, she’d had no doubt in her mind that the Selkie was somehow to blame. Now, this piece of circus scum was telling her a similar tale to her mentor’s letters so long ago, and suddenly, she suspected that she might have an unprecedented opportunity on her hands.

‘_The odds that this is the same Selkie are not in my favor, but I cannot let this opportunity slip away_,’ she thought to herself.

“Monsieur Skender,” she said, startling the ringmaster out of his babbling fever. “I believe our trap may not have been wasted after all. Tell me, do you still have everything in place to direct my prey into our clutches?”

“Uh, yes, I believe so, ma’am,” Skender replied with cautious confidence. Vinda was not convinced.

“You believe, or you _know_?” she demanded. He matched her glare with one of his own, barely, and rubbed the circular ruby atop of his golden staff until it began to glow with a magical power.

“...I know. We’ll get the job done. Just tell me what you want me to do,” he growled.

* * *

Once their plans had all been rearranged to accommodate their minor setback, Vinda watched Skender leave her quarters with a small bag of coins in his pocket and a new spring in his step. Despite her distaste for the uncultured swine, she was not against keeping his purse heavy if it meant his continued obedience and loyalty to her plot. Still, she could not deny that she would have preferred to keep a much larger, safer distance between them if it were at all possible.

In the wake of the ringmaster’s departure, a quiet voice spoke up from the shadows behind her.

“Do you think it will work, my Queen?” Vinda smirked and glanced over her shoulder, beckoning her loyal pet to her side with a wave of her hand.

Lieutenant Abernathy was not the brightest of fellows, nor the most accomplished of officers, but his devotion to her was unmatched by any other. She had found him alone and disrespected among his American brothers in the US Navy, desperate to prove himself worthy of action and esteem—a prime candidate for the Pirate Queen to sink her claws into on her path to glory. He had thrown himself headfirst into every task that she assigned to him, at first determined to win her respect, and then quickly became obsessed with pleasing her as much as he was able.

Now he waited patiently for his next orders, knowing that even being present for these little meetings was a great honor she bestowed only to him.

At least to his knowledge.

“We can only hope. For now, we must stay on course and hope that everything falls into place as they should,” she said. She picked up the stained circus pamphlet and held it delicately over the burning flame of the candle on her desk, watching the edges curl and blacken as the evidence of her necessary association with lowlifes turned to ash. “How is our little lost bird fairing?”

“She’s getting along with our crew quite well,” Abernathy said softly. “We are treating her with the utmost respect, as you ordered. She even graced us with a beautiful song this morning at breakfast.”

“Should I be worried that you’ll fall in love with her, my dear Lieutenant?” Vinda asked, keeping her tone light and teasing so as not to agitate him too much. He always did get himself into a tizzy when she even _insinuated_ her disappointment in him.

“Never, my Queen. You know my loyalty belongs to you and you alone,” he said passionately. She nodded in agreement, the last of the burning parchment floating down into the pile of dust by her elbow. She made sure to discard it carefully, knowing that even the smallest of embers could burst into a devastating inferno if carelessly provoked.

“I know, Abernathy, and I do appreciate your help in this matter. Where is she now?”

“Her room, I imagine. I can check if you like.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said, pushing herself up out of her seat and reaching for the letter she had finished writing only moments before Skender barged his way into her midst. “I need you to deliver this to our mole in the PLA office. He’ll take it from there.”

“Consider it done,” Abernathy said with a smile, following her out of the office and onto the dreary deck of the_ Père Lachaise_. The London fog hovered thickly across the ship, the dark outlines of her crew milling about as they completed what tasks they could in such limiting conditions. They would not be sailing off until the end of the week—or whenever she demanded it, depending on how their plans all played out.

Abernathy departed with no further words exchanged between them, and the Pirate Queen descended into the belly of her ship with a painted smile and her head held high.

Queenie Goldstein had been extremely grateful, though visibly still uncomfortable, when she’d been offered a room all to herself and an invitation to join the crew for breakfast. Vinda had spread the whispers among her men to treat Queenie with cheerfulness and proper manners soon after, warning them never to push too strong lest they frighten her away before the rest of her plans could commence on time.

She stopped before the Legilimens’s temporary room and gently knocked on its door, her mental barriers firmly in place.

“Good morning, Madame Goldstein,” she greeted once Queenie answered her call. “Please pardon my disturbance.”

“Oh, no, no! I was already up and packing,” the blonde-haired nymph said, gesturing with her frizzing curls at the ghastly pink suitcase closed and sitting on the floor in front of the doorway. Vinda pushed down the urge to smirk in amusement, keeping her expression friendly and seemingly open instead.

“I see. I heard you were able to join my crew for breakfast. I hope they were all on their best behavior?” she asked pointedly. Queenie nodded, her smile growing brighter by the second. Apparently, the night’s sleep in a warm bed had done her some good.

“Oh, yes! They were all very nice!”

“I’m glad. You are my honored guest, after all,” Vinda stepped aside, allowing Queenie to pick up the handle of her suitcase and carry it along with her as they made their way back up to the main deck. “I wanted you to know that you are more than welcome to stay with us, but I also know you probably wish to get back to your fiancé as soon as possible.”

“That’s very kind of you, really, but I think he’s probably really worried about me,” Queenie said softly, trying her best to avert her eyes without being too obvious. She failed, but Vinda was not surprised or offended.

“I am sure he is. Do you know where he is staying?” She watched with silent satisfaction as Queenie’s already fading smile finally disappeared beneath a quivering pout. “...perhaps, if you saw it on a map? I have many in my office.”

“I, uh…no, that wouldn’t help,” the nymph whispered despondently. “I honestly don’t even know where we parted ways.”

“Oh, dear,” Vinda stopped at the edge of the ship, purposefully placing their bodies right next to the gangplank and unnerving city below. For once, she was glad for the abundance of damp and fog—it made the outside world seem all the more uninviting and cruel. “I’m afraid I do not know London very well. Without an area or a popular tourist symbol to reference, I don’t know if I’ll be able to direct you to where you need to go.”

“It’s not your fault. I should have paid more attention,” Queenie said, her eyes growing dark and hazy with unshed tears. Vinda placed her hand comfortingly in the small of the Nereid’s back and shook her head.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You were upset last night. We will figure something out.” She glanced around, as if the answers would suddenly manifest themselves, and turned back to Queenie with a perfect display of concern. “Is there anyone else you might be able to go to for help?”

“I was going to try and find my sister,” Queenie said. “She should be working on a ship here…or, at least, I think she should be.”

“That’s perfect! I know exactly where you need to go!” Vinda gently guided her towards the Captain’s Quarters, sending a discrete signal to one of her passing crewmen with her free hand as they passed him. The loyal messenger slipped off the ship unnoticed by the miserable nymph, dutifully carrying the message that their plans were on schedule to those awaiting any news of progress.

Once safely inside Vinda’s office, the two women fetched a crude map of the docks from one of the many bookshelves.

“If your sister is on any of the vessels making port here, they need to have her listed on the registry ledger at the PLA Headquarters. We are here, and you want to go _here_—at Tower Hill. It should only take you about twenty minutes on foot.”

“That’s fantastic! Thank you so much!” Queenie said with the widest smile Vinda had seen on her face since their fated meeting. The Pirate Queen nodded and handed the map over to her guest, trying not to let any of her pity show in her eyes.

It was a good thing she couldn’t hear her thoughts, or everything would have been ruined a thousand times over by now.

“It is no trouble. And if you don’t manage to meet up with her, please don’t hesitate to find us again. We are more than happy to have you with us, even temporarily,” Vinda said. Queenie appeared to hesitate, to consider, and Vinda was more than pleased with that as the nymph bid her a final farewell before setting off to find the building she so desperately believed to hold the key to her salvation.

But Vinda knew better—she planned better—and she knew exactly how the next few hours would play out.

The stupid nymph would indeed find her way to Tower Hill, but the registry would not have Tina Goldstein anywhere in its records. Abernathy would beat her there, their mole making sure that all mentions of Tina Goldstein would be erased before Queenie could find them. She would become even more helpless and lost than before, and without a sister or lover to give her comfort, she would turn to the only friendly face she had seen in this Gods-forsaken city. Queenie would return to Vinda’s open arms, drowning her sorrows in Vinda’s heartfelt words of support that miraculously catered to her every insecurity and desire for validation.

She would find the ones she sought in due time, but by then the doubts would already be well settled inside her heart.

And when the storm had finally settled, and everything around Queenie had crumbled to dust, Vinda would be there to snatch up the remaining pieces for themselves.


	12. Chapter 12 - Newt

Credence was not home when Newt arrived.

A part of him knew that it was too much to hope for, that he was simply deluding himself and setting himself up for crushing disappointment. Still, it hurt no less when he searched their tiny home from top to bottom only to come up empty-handed and unable to do a thing to help the one he’d lost. Tina and Jacob had helped him search, thankfully giving him a comfortable amount of space as they did so, but when the house remained quiet and distinctly Selkie-less, they followed him back out into the damp street in silence.

“Theseus lives in Westminster, across the Thames. If we hurry, and the buses are fast, we should get there in about ten minutes!” Newt said as he hurried down the way they came. He distantly recognized that he was beginning to get a headache from the constant dashing back and forth across his precious London, not helped by the late hour and the fact that he had foolishly skipped supper (again) before he’d run off with Jacob.

“…Newt, wait!” Jacob’s voice suddenly echoed across the silence of the night.

The magizoologist stopped, surprised and more than a little disoriented, and turned to give his friend a questioning look. Tina was just as confused by Jacob’s sudden, despondent command, though she hid it well beneath an icy mask of determination.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly. Jacob’s face was set in a gloomy frown, but more worrisome than that was the defeated slack to his shoulders and the lack of light in his eyes.

“Look, we’re — I mean, look at us. We’re drenched to the bone, we’re tired from all our running around, and I don’t know about you guys, but I am practically running on empty, stomach-wise.” Newt glanced down at the ground guiltily, knowing where the baker’s logic was going to lead and too heartsick to stop it. “I know I was all gung-ho about finding Queenie before, but it’s been raining almost non-stop since she ran off. The trail has to be completely gone by now, right, Newt?”

“I —”

“So, what, now you want to stop?” Tina interrupted with an annoyed grimace and crossed arms. Jacob shrugged, helpless and shivering as he threw his hands out in front of him.

“What good will it do if we go now, Tina?” he asked. “Newt’s brother’s probably in bed right now and won’t be in any mood to start searching. None of us are going to be of any use like this — and we’re probably not gonna be useful at our best, either!”

“I only have a day to help you guys,” Tina reminded him, though not unkindly. “I can’t afford to waste too much time.”

“…I hate to sound self-serving, but I think Jacob’s right,” Newt spoke up. “When you’re in the field, there are times when you have to force yourself to stop for the day and try again the next. Theseus doesn’t leave for work until eight, most days, so we can catch him before then and tell him what’s happening. And this way, if by some miracle Credence comes back, we can take him with us, too.”

They all looked at one another, all clearly feeling guilty but also stretched far too thin beneath the rain’s ruthless downpour. Eventually, Tina seemed to sense that she would have to be the one to make the final decision and nodded in defeat. Much more slowly than they had run out of the door, the three of them meandered with heavy limbs and heavier hearts back into Newt’s sitting room, shedding their coats and hanging them all over the doors to dry. Newt blindly fetched every spare blanket he could find, setting up Jacob in the small guest room and offering Tina his bed after he’d changed the sheets.

“You didn’t have to,” she’d tried to say, but Newt wouldn’t hear of it. He was at least glad to see her smile at him when he left her to her privacy, closing the door behind him and setting his rusting alarm clock on the floor beside his sofa-made-temporary-bed.

He decided it would be best to give themselves at least an hour to get ready, as well as to travel to his brother’s house and beg for his assistance. Newt had no doubt that Theseus would be shocked that he’d asked for his help, let alone that he was doing so willingly after so many years of silence. Still, if they wanted to find the ones that they loved under such dire and hopeless circumstances, even Newt could admit that having a professional sleuth on their side was the best way to ensure their success.

Magical creatures Newt could find easily, but people were farther beyond his levels of expertise.

Despite his resolve that they should all get a proper night’s rest, the magizoologist found himself unable to commit to sleep during the night. The sofa beneath his back was stiff and creaky, Jacob’s snores echoed loudly across the stillness of the house, and the crippling worst-case scenarios that could have been Credence’s fate grew more and more horrifying the longer he stared up at the ceiling. He drifted in and out of consciousness as he waited for any sign or sound that would indicate the Selkie’s safe return, but as the sun began to rise beyond the sitting room window, he finally had to admit what he’s known to be true all along.

Credence was well and truly lost.

Newt had failed him a second time.

* * *

The magizoologist, baker, and Nereid all scarfed down a sorry excuse for breakfast with what little sustenance Newt could find in his cupboards. The air around them was tense, weary, and while Tina appeared more conversational than the night before, Newt couldn’t help but notice that she remained particularly closed off towards the both of them from the moment she joined them at the table. Jacob, meanwhile, at least attempted to be friendly in all the ways Newt remembered with the utmost fondness.

“Has Credence been getting along with all your creatures?” he asked tentatively, and even in the depths of his depressed state, Newt couldn’t help but smile at the memories the question summoned to the surface.

“Oh, he’s a natural! They all love him, and he’s so gentle with them.” He sipped at his tea, taking comfort in the burn that traveled all the way down his chest.

“I still don’t know why he would’ve run off,” the baker mused around an apple slice. “He seemed like he was going to hold down the fort last night.”

“It’s my fault,” Newt said immediately. “We haven’t had time to go to the sea lately, and he needs to spread his — well, his flippers, I suppose. I think the pressure became too much for him.”

“Especially after being denied his pelt for so long,” Tina suddenly spoke up, her dark eyes thawed with compassion and understanding. Newt barely noticed how his body leaned forward as she spoke with a small, knowing smile. “When you have such a deep connection to the sea, it can be hard for some to let that connection stretch for too long. He was kept on that boat for so many years, always just out of reach of what he needed to feel whole again. And then you finally gave him the freedom that he needed, only for it to be taken away again…I’m not surprised he ran off.”

“Well, hopefully, we can find him soon…both of them,” Jacob said, and after they had finished swallowing as much tea and coffee as they were able in their limited time, they threw on their coats and braved the frigid London morning in the dim light of the cloudy sunrise.

The streets were crowded by the time they reached the main roads of the city. Newt led them down a familiar, though not often traveled, path towards the center of Westminster, where his brother and Leta lived. The skies were still rather cloudy and gray in spite of a previously clear forecast, and the sour moods of their small circle did not improve matters in the slightest.

“…so, Tina, how’s life on your new ship?” Jacob spoke up suddenly, and even Newt could easily pick up on the forced cheerfulness in his voice. Tina huffed, her stride purposeful and brisk.

“Invigorating.”

“Good, good…got some, uh, good sailing in?”

“I’d say so.”

“Wonderful! Yeah…” Jacob looked at Newt with a pointed, wide-eyed glance, gesturing towards Tina’s back when the magizoologist didn’t respond right away.

“I was surprised to hear you were in London, Tina!” He said hastily. “You haven’t written to me in a while, so —”

“Ha! And I wonder why that is,” she said, her tone anything but amused. “At least now I know how you really feel about government employees.”

Ah, so that was it.

Although his correspondence to her had been forcibly cut off during his sudden and stressful eviction from the United States, her replies had come to a stop shortly before then. They had been discussing the likelihood that Newt would never again work with any country’s naval forces after the disaster that was the USS MACUSA. Tina had been cautiously optimistic and encouraged him not to hold one bad experience against the entire government, while Newt had freely — and, it seemed, foolishly — confessed his deep-seated disdain for the system as a whole.

“I may have been a little strong in the way that I expressed myself in that letter—” he tried to say, but as he had come to expect, Tina was relentless.

“What was the exact phrase? ‘_A bunch of careerist hypocrites_’?” she groused. Newt shot a desperate look at Jacob, who looked very much like he wanted to sink down into the earth and disappear.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t admire people whose answer to everything that they fear or misunderstand is ‘_kill it’_!” he explained, desperate for her forgiveness and yet equally yearning to make her understand. She glared at him, increasing her speed and stride as she moved across a busy street.

“I’m a government employee and I don’t—”

“Yes, and that’s because you’ve gone middle head!”

Tina stopped abruptly, turning to face him with an expression of pure incredulity. Jacob’s face was scrunched up in equal amounts of confusion, and both parties spoke at the same time.

“What?!”

“Excuse me?” Newt fidgeted under their piercing gazes, mentally slapping himself across the face for blurting out something so clearly nonsensical to others despite making perfect sense in his own mind. He fumbled for an excuse and hoped it wouldn’t be too obvious.

“It’s an expression derived from the three heads of the Runespoor. The middle one is the visionary. Every government employee I’ve ever encountered has been self-absorbed and greedy – except you. You’ve gone middle head,” he explained.

Jacob’s eyes hazed over and focused on a distant, invisible horizon as Newt’s odd words soaked into his brain. Tina’s expression, meanwhile, softened as her frown transformed into a small, bemused smirk and the ice in her eyes slowly began to melt away.

“Who else uses that expression, Mr. Scamander?” she asked softly.

“…I think it might just be me.”

She shook her head and turned to continue her journey down the busy sidewalk, and it took every ounce of courage built up inside Newt’s spine for him to match her pace. Jacob followed with a bit more hesitancy, but each of them froze mid-step as a deep, guttural roar echoed across the sky.

“…Newt…what was that?” Jacob asked fearfully.

“…that sounded like a Zouwu,” he responded, turning sharply to run towards the distant sounds of crashes and terrified screams.

“A what?” Tina demanded as she ran alongside him.

Newt slowed to a halt as he reached the corner of an old brick building, peeking around the edge as the roars and screams grew louder and more intense. At first, all he could see where couples running out from beneath restaurant awnings and businessmen tripping over their own feet as they fled from the alleyway across the street. Then, like a violent storm of color and plumage, the Zouwu burst out of the darkness and sank its claws deep into the aging brick walls as it thrashed and crawled through the air.

Newt’s heart clenched as he took in the scars all over its snarling face, the metal chains and collar digging into its flesh, and the frantic way it’s eyes locked onto every moving object in its path as though it would be attacked at any second.

“Newt?” Jacob hissed from over his shoulder. Newt kept his eyes focused on the creature, wincing as it slammed its body into oncoming cars in its panicked frenzy.

“_That_ is a Zouwu. It’s a Chinese creature. They are incredibly fast and incredibly powerful. They can travel a thousand miles in a day…and this one could take you from one part of the city to the next in a single leap.” As the poor creature collapsed into the street and let out a ferocious roar, Newt gripped his suitcase tightly in hand and ran in a low crouch into the middle of the street.

“Newt, wait!” Tina’s voice rang out, but he paid her no heed.

Bodies passed him in a blur as he slowly made his way closer to the creature, and when the Zouwu’s catlike eyes locked onto him, the rest of the world fell away to nothing. He quickly turned and placed his suitcase onto the ground, rubbing the black, magical seal on his wrist and conjuring up the image of his cabin in his mind. Ever reliable, the magic of the case granted him access to the specific cabinet he sought as soon as he opened the lid.

He rummaged inside the drawers, trying not to fumble or panic as he searched for the perfect tool for the job. After all, the Zouwu was clearly wounded and afraid, and it had no concept of whether Newt was a friend, a predator, or a piece of tasty prey to snatch up in its powerful jaws.

“Newt, get out of there!” Jacob shouted in the distance, but he needn't have worried so.

Stifling his huff of triumph, Newt grabbed his trusty tool by the handle and redirected the case’s magic to a barren field of tall grasses and open plains. He stood quickly, once again locking eyes with the stalking giant looming ever closer with an angry roar. He did not flinch, refused to flee, and with a flourish, brandished the key to the Zouwu’s gentle heart in the air.

A fluffy toy bird on a stick.

The shift was almost instantaneous. The pupils of the creature’s fierce golden eyes dilated in curiosity, its previously predatory stance unfolding into something hesitant and intrigued. Its roars died down to a soft rumble, and when Newt moved the toy back and forth, so did the creature’s head follow a similar motion. Newt couldn’t help but smile, taking careful steps back until the toy bird hovered over the opening into the empty sanctuary below.

A beat, a tense pause, and then Newt let go.

The Zouwu pounced just as any cat would, playfully chasing its new toy down into the suitcase and away from the cold England streets. Newt released a sigh of relief when the suitcase snapped closed, the innocent protected and the threat of violence dispersed. He reached down and closed his fingers around the handle of the case, unconsciously flinching back at the sound of agitated, approaching footsteps.

“We need to go!” Tina hissed, grabbing him by the forearm and dragging him back into the alleyway from which they came. Newt obeyed, Jacob followed, and together they fled from the growing crowd’s prying, judgmental eyes.


	13. Chapter 13 - Credence

The world passed Credence by in waves of hazy shapes and shadows.

He could feel Nagini’s strong grip guiding him by the shoulders through the cold, damp streets, but her gentle words of encouragement were lost to the buzzing, painful white noise consuming the inside of his head. The sensible part of him knew they must have walked along the milling London crowds to escape their mysterious pursuer, yet the faces around him were shapeless and dull whenever the Selkie’s eyes drifted up from his stumbling feet. His limbs were heavy and painful to move, his stomach was empty, and the darkness at the edges of his vision taunted him with a damning promise of sleep from which he would possibly never awaken.

After a senseless amount of time limping alongside his cursed companion, he was gently pushed down onto his knees with silent, comforting shadows falling over him.

“Credence,” Nagini whispered, kneeling before him and cradling both sides of his head in her hands. “Credence, I need you to listen to me.”

He forced his eyes to meet hers, if only to show that he was present and listening.

“I think we’ve lost him. I’m going to try and find something to get your strength back up.” She moved to stand up, but he was quicker. His fingers caught in the crevices of the blue lace of her dress as he grabbed her arm, keeping her in place long enough for him to shake his head in desperation.

“It’s too dangerous,” he rasped. Her lips tilted up in a rueful smile, and if he were in a better state of mind, he would have almost believed it was full of sorrow.

“I’ll be careful. Rest now.” She gave his tangled mess of locks one last pet before carefully removing her arm from his grip and fluttering off into the unknown.

As Credence watched her go, he fell back until he was sitting more comfortably on his backside and took in his surroundings with more clarity than he had before. Unsurprisingly, he found himself in one of London’s ten thousand identical alleyways, hidden from the general populace by the shadows of the overhead bridges and their pack mentality of ignoring anything that did not concern them. He took deep breaths in an effort to build his energy back up, but the longer he sat in silence, the longer he was left all alone without a familiar face beside him, the more the winter air burned his lungs with on-setting panic.

How could everything go so horribly wrong so quickly?

It had seemed only yesterday that he and Newt were happily sailing out on the open sea on their own tiny oasis, free of their prisons and expectations and having not a care in the world to bring them crashing back down to reality. But then, reality had always been cruel to the Selkie in the past — why would this time be any different? Why had he allowed himself to make believe that his life could be filled with anything but pain and misery?

Childish as he felt it was, Credence couldn’t stop the sharp tang of tears that attacked his eyes as his fatigue took its toll on his mind and body in equal measure. He curled up with his face buried in his knees, sniffling and trying in vain to keep his quiet weeping at bay. He tried to tell himself that Newt wouldn’t want him to lose hope, nor would he be at all proud or happy to see Credence crying like a lost child in an abandoned alley.

But Newt wasn’t here, and that was the problem.

Hurried clicks upon the stone path echoed off the walls of the alley as Credence’s tears finally began to dry, though he still wiped away the remains of the salty streaks from his cheeks and nose as Nagini returned from her self-imposed mission. Her smile was triumphant as she bent down to his level, clutching a small parcel to her chest that he couldn’t see. She noticed his tears almost immediately, but besides a quick stroke of her hand against his knee in a comforting gesture, she kindly kept any thoughts or comments on the observation to herself. Instead, she revealed the prize she had so bravely fetched for him — a single, simple loaf of bread, most likely stolen from a bakery or a food cart down the road.

She remained silent as she broke the loaf in half, offering him the largest piece with an encouraging grin. Credence’s mouth filled with saliva almost instantly, and he couldn’t have refused her generous offering if he’d wanted to. As he accepted his portion of the bounty, the puckered scars over his fingers touched a tiny speckling of dark scales that had suddenly appeared on the back of her hand.

Nagini caught sight of them, too, as if for the first time, and pulled away with a mortified frown.

“Are you —?” Credence whispered, but Nagini shook her head before he could elaborate.

“Sometimes, when I’m stressed…they’ll fade away eventually…” Her attention remained focused on the bread in her other hand, her eyes lidded with despair. Credence bit the inside of his cheek and reached out to cradle her affected hand in his own.

“You don’t have to be ashamed,” he said, rubbing the scales with his thumb.

“…I am not embarrassed by them,” Nagini denied. “…I _hate_ them.”

“Because of the curse?” he asked, allowing her to pull away and pick at her bread. He fidgeted with his own piece, unsure of what to say or do to make her feel better about her condition. After all, despite all the torment he’d had to endure under the cruel hand of Grindelwald, he’d still had a certain amount of pride in what he was.

So how could he say anything to her if he had no idea what she was going through?

“My curse…is inevitable,” she murmured. “Like any nightmare, it doesn't matter how fast I run or what I do, because it just keeps coming all the same. And when my time finally runs out, all I can do is wait to be destroyed...wait to be nothing more than a memory in the body of a mindless animal.”

“Is there any way to break it?”

“Not unless you can turn back time. I’ve been cursed since birth.”

“…I’m sorry.”

Nagini didn’t respond.

Instead, they focused on their meager lunch. The crust was dry and cold, not unexpected with their current weather, but the dough was satisfyingly soft and fluffy. It wasn’t much, and it made Credence long even more violently for Newt’s warm, simple cooking, but it would keep their energy from failing them. The Selkie also had the presence of mind to check on the tiny bird still hiding in his pocket, who was blissfully unaware of anything that was happening on the other side of the Selkie’s pocket. After a bit of cooing and encouragement, Credence carefully poured tiny trickles of birdseed into its gaping beak while Nagini watched with a smile.

Once everyone had consumed their meal to the last crumb and seed, Credence helped Nagini to her feet and slowly approached the opening of the alleyway. He took in the passing faces, searching for the mysterious hunter that had attacked them so suddenly, and it was only once he’s designated the coast as clear that they began their journey anew. None of the buildings were familiar, none of the store windows gave them any helpful clues, and the longer they wandered, the more and more lost Credence felt.

They attempted a few times to ask the staff in the more barren shops for directions, but half of them did not know where to direct them and the other half took in Nagini’s suggestive performance attire and all but threw them out.

“You should start going in without me,” she murmured with a frown. Credence kept her arm close around his elbow, gently caressing the back of her hand where the scales used to be.

“I’m not leaving you. We’re in this together,” he said. Nagini froze in the center of the sidewalk, dragging Credence to a halt with her and causing the passersby to shoot them exasperated glares. Her eyes were dark with confusion, but Credence could see a hidden light of something far more fragile and dangerous.

“Why are you so concerned about me?” she demanded softly. “We don’t even know each other. You don’t have anything to gain…why haven’t you just run off without me?”

Credence swallowed the growing lump in his throat, trying not to avert his eyes from her prying stare.

Why, indeed. Because even though he would never say it aloud, a part of him pitied her. He felt sorry for the inevitable demise of her true self, regretted that he could do nothing more to help her when he had so much desire to do so, and couldn’t help but sympathize with the fact that she had nobody else to turn to. He knew all too well what it was like to be drowning and having no one there to save you — the least he could do was try.

So he would.

“Because…you’re my friend, Nagini,” he said. Her eyes began to shine with unshed tears, but he pushed onward until he had said everything he needed. “I want to make sure you’re okay. I want us to be together, even if it’s just until you’re back on your feet. Is that okay?”

“You shouldn’t…” Her throat seemed to close, her eyes squeezing shut as she hid her face in his shoulder. “I’m not worth all this trouble, Credence.”

“I think you are.” He smiled, gently coaxing her back to a slow stride down the London streets. “Besides, you could have left me back in that alley. Why didn’t _you_ run off?”

Her nails dug into his arm, her face still hidden from his view. When she spoke again, her voice was filled with a strange mix of reverence and regret.

“You saved me. You set me free.”

* * *

The next few minutes dragged on for what seemed like hours. The sky was awash with various shades of grey and had the sun not peeked out in tiny trickles of light every now and again, Credence would have believed that the night had already fallen over them. The air was humid and smelt of storms, though he hoped the worst of the rainfall had passed them by. The clouds did not speak to him, did not give him any warnings or polite probes of interest, so he assumed they were safe as they hopped from one business to the next.

Finally, after a long stretch of fruitless ventures, a different sort of light emerged out from the darkness.

Nagini led the way into a small laundering establishment with white bedsheets hanging from clotheslines on the walls and copper tubs filled with cloudy water lining the floor on both sides of the room. Soap flakes bobbled on top of the waters’ surfaces, hiding clothes in a wide array of colors and fabrics. Haggard-looking women dressed in simple black frocks and stained aprons marched to and fro between the tubs and clotheslines, and when Credence and his companion approached, they continued to weave around their bodies as if they weren’t even in the room.

“May I help you, sir? Madam?” a gentle, accented voice spoke up.

Credence turned, blinked when nobody stood beside him, and then glanced downward on a hunch. Before them stood a stocky Elf who barely reached the top of Credence’s knees, with greying brown hair tied up in a braided updo and long fingers buried in her apron as she wiped the remains of soapy water from her hands. She had a kind smile, patient despite the clearly bustling workforce around her, and the wrinkles beginning to show upon her round face reminded Credence of the kind, aging fairy godmothers he’d often read about in fairytales.

“We’re sorry to bother you, ma’am,” Nagini spoke up.

“Oh, it’s no bother, my dears. What can I do for you?” she asked.

“We’re a little lost,” Credence explained, ignoring the pained look of sympathy that crossed her face like so many others’ had before her. “We’re trying to get to the docks of the Thames. Could you tell us how to get there from here?”

“Well, I can’t promise that my directions will be the greatest,” she said, beckoning them to follow her towards the back of the shop and up to a simple desk littered with receipt slips and order forms. “I’ll try my best, though. I like to walk along the rivers, but I haven’t had time to visit in a while.”

“Does that mean we’re close?” Credence asked hopefully, but his hopes were dashed when the Elf shook her head.

“I’m afraid not. The Thames is a big river, but it’s quite a walk away from here.” She grabbed a blank receipt slip, flipping it over and grabbing a quill to write on the plain side of it.

In scratched ink, she drew a crude map of the city, labeling the shop they were standing in and drawing arrows in the direction they needed to go. She attempted to give them as many landmarks to guide them as she could recall from distant memory, and once she had exhausted her limited knowledge, they were handed a rather simple diagram showing just how far away their destination truly was.

“This is going to take us hours,” he realized with a clenched heart. The kind Elf grimaced with such tenderness at his broken tone, reaching forward and rubbing his shoulder with long, crooked fingers.

“Worry not, young man,” she said, “you will find your way. The lost always do, so long as they keep moving forward.”

He graced her with a small smile, and although they were so very different in many ways, he couldn’t help but see a glimmer of Newt’s gentle soul in this stranger’s eyes. The thought of his wild companion brought a fresh burst of determination into his cold bones. He _would_ get home to Newt — no matter how much his feet would bleed or how many hours he would have to endure on the journey.

“Thank you so much, ma’am,” he whispered with all the gratitude he could express. The Elf lightly patted the back of his hand and nodded.

“You’re very welcome. I hope you find what you are looking for.”

Credence cradled the map in his hands as he led Nagini back out into the London cold. Glancing carefully at the Elf’s sketch, he led the way down the winding streets with Nagini’s hand clasped warmly in his own. It was only when he spotted a horrifyingly familiar market in the upcoming distance that he truly took in his surroundings, and he froze with a cold, numbing realization that sent the overhanging clouds rolling by in dark, tormented waves.

“Credence?” Nagini inquired worriedly, and it took all his inner strength not to devolve into a shaking, hopeless mess right there in the middle of the road.

“We’ve been going the wrong way this whole time,” he gasped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: There are quite a few deleted scenes between Credence and Nagini from the film, and I always thought it was a crime that they weren't used in the final theatrical release. Thankfully, that's what fanfiction is for, and I can include them here to my heart's content! XD


	14. Chapter 14 - Newt

Theseus and Leta lived together in a much more opulent flat in the center of Westminster, mockingly located on the top floor and facing the busy streets below. Newt led the way up the stairs and around expansive hallways decorated with paintings framed in gold, trying not to make his discomfort far too obvious to the friends who followed behind.

Theseus had always been a well-meaning big brother to him, and even Newt would have been blind to ignore his heartfelt attempts to accept Newt’s quirks and obsessions with magical creatures. Still, it was also apparent that like everybody else, he didn’t _understand _Newt, nor did they see the world around them in the same manner. So when the adults commented on Theseus's achievements and practically condemned Newt’s interests, Newt was never surprised when his brother said nothing. When the cold-hearted bullies came for his head at school, and Theseus drove them away with harsh words and strong fists, he was never shocked that he would pretend that Newt didn’t exist immediately after.

And yet despite all the years preparing him for the day his brother would outclass him in the world of romance, that Theseus would be the Scamander son that would produce an heir to the family name, Newt never expected Leta Lestrange to be the woman he chose.

He knew that Leta was not meant for him, no matter what his broken heart still said. They had been close friends, outcasts bonded together through the pain and depressions of youth, but even their special bond had its limits. Theirs had been a young love full of confusion and fear of rejection, never expressed or acted upon. Leta had grown into a strong, beautiful, alluring woman — but her heart was still too cold and sharp for the likes of a weak man like him.

The cold never bothered Theseus. He respected it, endured it, melted it in ways Newt would never be able to accomplish. Theseus and Leta had barely interacted during their school days, but once the chaotic whirlwinds of their teenage years had been put behind them, it was as if they had known each other their entire lives. Not even the blood-drinking made Theseus flinch away.

And Newt was happy for them — truly, he was!

That didn’t stop his eyes from burning with tears when Theseus had asked him to be his best man at the wedding. That didn’t make it any less satisfying to rip the letter into shreds and throw it into the nearest fireplace to burn. It didn’t make his hand stop shaking when he picked up a quill and forced himself to pen an enthusiastic response of acceptance, his throat dry and aching from quenching down his cries of betrayal.

Now Newt was walking right into their den of prenuptial happiness, his own love lost and unable to soothe the inescapable agony he was about to face.

It took a few minutes for his knock to be acknowledged and answered, and it was Theseus who opened the door to stare at him with wide, tired eyes and a loose tie hanging from his shoulders.

“Newt?” The inspector glanced at the companions peeking out around his brother’s hunched form, his expression both curious and oddly resigned. “What did you do?”

“For once, nothing!” Newt said defensively. “I came because I need your help!”

The words came out easier than he imagined they would, but Theseus’s expression was no less surprised.

“You — What's happened?” he asked. Tina was the first to approach, holding out her hand for a firm shake in spite of the inspector’s disheveled appearance.

“Theseus Scamander? My name is Tina Goldstein,” she said as Theseus accepted her handshake almost absentmindedly. “I served with your brother on the USS MACUSA.”

“I know you!” he responded with renewed alertness. “You filed an appeal with the council back in New York!”

“I did, too!” the baker spoke up, waving a hand in greeting while Newt tried to hide his growing blush. “Jacob Kowalski! Nice to meet ya.”

“Uh, likewise! Come in, come in!” Theseus stood aside and opened the door wide for them all to pile in, quickly trying to finish tying his tie and smoothing out his dress shirt. “Leta, honey, we have company!”

“I’m sorry it’s such short notice,” Newt offered with a wince. “It’s just a bit of an emergency.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Theseus whispered, keeping a watchful eye on where Tina and Jacob hovered awkwardly on the edges of the sitting room and gazed around at the tasteful decor. Newt couldn’t blame them for being impressed with the grandeur of the silk curtains and tidy bookshelves — especially after being subjected to his sorry excuse of a bachelor’s residence.

“No, I — Well, it’s a bit complicated,” Newt explained softly. He paused as Leta sauntered into view from beyond the couple’s bedroom door, her hair cascading in dark waves over her shoulder and a vibrant plum satin dress clinging to her form like a second skin.

“Newt? What are you—?” She paused as her eyes took in the other guests staring at her in both curiosity and different forms of reverence. “Oh, good morning.”  
  


“We’re sorry to barge in so early,” Tina said with a polite smile in both of their hosts’ directions. “Newt said you might be willing to help us.”

“Depends on what sort of help I’m supposed to provide,” Theseus said with a rueful, and Newt thought ever-so-slightly annoyed, smirk.

“My fiancée, Queenie — you probably heard of her, too, from New York — she’s gone missing here in London,” Jacob spoke up. “We know she was at the docks near the, uh, the big river —”

“The Thames,” the Scamander brothers and Leta all clarified in unison.

“—yeah, that, but we lost her trail because of the rain. Newt said you might be able to help us search for her.”

“Really? Well.” Theseus was now clearly annoyed, but hid it relatively well.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but she hasn’t turned up since yesterday and we’re really worried about her,” Tina said with more pleading in her tone than she would have normally allowed to enter her voice. Newt saw right through the attempt to pull at his brother’s heartstrings but bit his tongue with more than a little amusement.

“…I can’t promise anything. Technically I’m not supposed to investigate anything unreported, but I can certainly keep a lookout for her when I’m doing my rounds today,” Theseus said.

“About that…Credence is missing, too,” Newt spoke up.

“What?!” Leta gasped, her hands covering her heart in concern. “How? When?”

“We went searching for Queenie last night, and when we got back, he was gone,” Newt said.

“I saw him at a circus in town before Newt found me, but lost him in the crowd,” Tina explained softly. “We know you probably won’t find them together, but we thought you might be able to keep an eye out for both of them at the same time.”

“He’ll be drawn to the sea, and he’ll probably try to find me by the docks since that’s where I was last,” Newt added.

Theseus sighed, rubbing the sides of his nose near his forehead. After a tense moment of silence, he finally nodded and visibly calmed his inner anxiety.

“I’ll do my best. Do you have a picture of your sister?”

“I do,” Tina said, reaching into the inner folds of her jacket and pulling out a folded faded photograph. From a distance, Newt saw that it was a picture of Queenie and Tina standing smiling side-by-side, dressed in beautiful sparkling dresses with a short jazz singer and bustling tables in the background.

“Alright. I’ll send you a message with any updates.”

“I’ll stay here with them,” Leta spoke up.

“You don’t have to do that, Leta,” Newt denied.

“We live closer to Headquarters, and I have some time off available,” she said, her fanged smile reassuring. “If your friend is really at the docks like you said, we’ll have a better chance of catching her sooner than if you have to travel all the way back here first.”

“I agree,” Theseus said. He ducked forward to kiss his fiancée on the lips before disappearing back into their bedroom to finish getting ready for the day. Leta, meanwhile, sauntered into the kitchen and began the process of making tea and coffee for her unexpected guests.

“Please, make yourselves at home. I have a feeling we’re going to be here a while.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t go with him?” Tina asked.

“I have a feeling we’ll only get in the way,” Newt said.

“Besides, if he’s caught investigating something personal during working hours, he could get in trouble,” Leta added. “And then where would we be?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Tina sighed, slowly removing her coat and folding it over her arm. “I just hate to sit around feeling useless.”

Newt turned to put his own coat on the hook beside the apartment door, reaching to accept Tina’s and trying to smile as he did so. Tina handed it to him after removing a tiny book from the pocket, offering him the first true smile of the day before making herself comfortable on the expansive couch. Jacob cleared his throat and made his way over to Newt’s side, making a point of hanging up his own coat with slow, careful movements.

“Careful, man,” the baker whispered warningly. Newt blinked in confusion.

“What?”

“It’s good to be friendly, but just…don't give her any ideas, yeah?”

Newt stayed quiet, not fully understanding his friend’s meaning, but Jacob walked away before he could formulate any further questions. Shrugging, the magizoologist sat his suitcase onto the floor and opened the lid, descending the stairs and making his way through the expansive lands he had created.

The Zouwu was limping around the barren grassland enclosure on the far-left side of the suitcase, where he had been keeping the Erumpet months prior before he’d released her back into the wild. He crouched into a squatted position a safe distance away in order to observe the creature’s behavior and physical characteristics, taking in its rather drab plumage and poorly healed wounds. He had never seen a Zouwu this close before, but judging from the length of the tapering end of the tail and the size of the legs, he believed this particular Zouwu to be an adult female.

She sniffled at the ground and batted at the feathered toy Newt had given her earlier, kicking up hay and dirt along the way. During one such playful movement, her eyes caught sight of where Newt sat still and silently watching, and all playfulness suddenly vanished from her posture. She growled, baring her fangs and abandoning her toy, and Newt had only a moment to brace himself for impact before she barreled into him with the top of her head. He aimed his body for the softer parts of the ground as best he could as he went flying through the air, rolling with a grunt as he landed on his side and curled up into a defensive fetal position.

He dared not move, showing this majestic beast that he was helpless against her strength and not at all a threat to her well-being.

The growls continued. Her claws dug into the earth as she approached his motionless body. Newt’s mind reeled as she reached forward, and in a stunning display of keen intelligence, hooked the tip of her claw into the back of his shirt and lifted him up to her face to get a closer look at him. He kept his eyes down, his body limp, and allowed her to sniff at his hair until she was satisfied that he wouldn’t attack her.

Slowly, carefully, he raised his hand up towards the collar around her neck.

“You’re alright.”

His palm tightened around the magical lock buried in the Zouwu’s mane, pressing at the notch until it clicked and the collar released. The growls in his ear lifted from threatening to confused, the chains falling in rusted tendrils to the ground below as the weight of her former captivity fell away. He slowly raised his gaze to meet her own, her golden eyes wide and wet as her growls turned to cautiously hopeful purrs.

“There you are. Good girl,” he praised softly, stroking her mane with his fingertips and pushing the remaining chains off of her body as he went. Her purrs intensified, deep and rumbling, and she finally lowered him back onto his feet before relishing in her newfound freedom with a series of prances and buoyant body wiggles.

He watched with a heartfelt smile as she ran back and forth between where he stood and the open field, and once he made sure she had no other restraints or injuries, he made his way back to his cabin to whip up a batch of healing herbs. He managed to smear a decent amount on her face and paws in an attempt to reduce her scars in between her attempts to lovingly rub her face all over his body.

Once that was finished, he ascended the stepladder to the opening of the suitcase, unintentionally catching Tina’s eye from where she had perched herself on the edge of a loveseat with her book in hand. Her expression was guarded, and yet she seemed oddly relaxed in the midst of such heavy silence in an environment completely foreign to her.

“She’s responded well to the Dittany,” he explained with hesitation. “She was born to run, you see. I think she’s just lacking in confidence.”

“Hmm.” Her eyes snapped back to the faded parchment before her, and Newt had the oddest feeling that he had done something to offend her. A part of him wanted to apologize, though he knew not what for, and to try and coax her back into a state of calm as he’s done for so many creatures in the past. Instead, he sighed and went to join Leta in the kitchen, taking a seat at the dining room table and watching her move about with the ease of a graceful dancer.

“Has Theseus gone?” he asked.

“A while ago.”

“Right…I meant to thank him for doing this,” he said with a sigh.

“You know we’re always willing to help you, Newt,” she smiled back. “I only hope that Credence is okay. You and I both know how chaotic this city can be.”

The gentle clinks of the teacups were the only sound that echoed in the following silence.

“Besides the fact that he’s currently lost, how has Credence been getting along?” Leta finally asked softly, politely trying to make conversation so that Newt would have something else to focus on besides his helplessness.

“I think he’s doing rather well, all things considered,” Newt whispered back, cradling his steaming cup in between sweating palms.

“You think, or you know?” Let asked wisely, and under her pointed gaze, Newt decided it wouldn’t hurt too much to entrust her with his uncertainties. After all, shared secrets were never a hurdle they hadn’t been able to overcome in their youth, and misery always loved kindred company.

“I don’t know. I thought I did, but...he said that he was going to be fine, that he didn’t need to be in the ocean too often. I guess I just...thought he knew his limits and would tell me when it got too much to handle.”

“Maybe he was scared of burdening you,” Leta said, and her knowing tone made Newt look up to meet her gaze. “It’s more common than you think. Our Human friends and loved ones often see us as stronger, more invulnerable beings regardless of our special needs. That can lead to thinking that you have to be strong all the time — that you have to push yourself past your breaking point whenever you start to suffer so that nobody thinks less of you.”

“I’ve told him to be honest with me, though,” Newt protested, but his voice sounded petulant even to his own ears.

“And I’m sure he tries, but it’s not a conscious thing most of the time. I only know that I do it because Theseus points it out to me.” Leta’s expression visibly brightened, a genuine smile only barely shadowed by years of pain and suffering as she lets his brother’s name caress her tongue. “I know that it can be exceptionally difficult — loving someone who isn’t Human.”

“...it’s not your fault, Leta. You can’t help what you’re born as.”

“...you’re too good, Newt. You never met a monster you couldn’t love.” Leta brought her tea up to her lips, her eyes resigned and filled with a pain she could never fully express aloud.

“You are _not_ a monster! I’ve told you that before!” Newt hissed, reaching forward and grabbing her free hand in both of his. Leta stared at where their skin touched, freckled sun to icy night. “Do you know how many monsters I’ve met, Leta? True monsters, ones that think of nothing but themselves and leave nothing but destruction in their wake?”

Leta visibly swallowed, her fingers curling gently around Newt’s as if afraid too much force would shatter him.

“I’ve met hundreds of Humans far more monstrous than you will ever be,” he said, “so please, don’t think that way. And I know without a doubt that Theseus would agree with me — for once.”

That made her giggle, her laughter soft and surprised in spite of the thick cloud of despair that had begun to hang over her head. 

“You’re actually more alike than you like to admit. Stubborn, bull-headed —”

“I resent that!” Newt said with a pout, but before she could tease him further, Jacob’s voice suddenly called out to them from across the room.

“Uh, guys?” Newt turned to where his friend was standing beside the large living room window, his posture tense and his finger pointing at something beyond the other occupants’ sight. “Is that normal?”

Newt and Leta stood from the table and moved closer to where the baker stood. Beyond the window panes, sitting proud and waiting upon the ledge, was a beautiful Northern white-faced owl with a folded piece of parchment clenched in its beak. Leta sauntered forward and opened the window with furrowed brows, while Tina appeared from the shadows to stand between Jacob and Newt. The owl was reluctant to release its precious parcel at first, it’s bright orange eyes judging Leta’s gentle attempts to pull it away, but eventually relented once she fetched it a small, cold piece of breakfast sausage as payment. It flew away in a flurry of feathers as Leta opened the letter with a frown.

“...it’s from Theseus,” she said, though her voice was heavy with uncertainty.

“Already?” Tina voiced everyone’s mutual thought aloud. “Are you sure?”

“That’s his signature, and it’s on his official stationery,” Leta confirmed, though she grew more and more visibly worried the more she read of her fiancé’s words.

It was a swift response to their plight — almost assuredly too quick, and therefore too good to be true.

“Well, what does it say?” Jacob demanded nervously. The Vampire glanced at his face, cleared her throat with false confidence, and leaned against the still-open window as she read aloud.

“_My dear Leta, tell Newt that he was on the right track. I’ve received news that there have been some odd occurrences on the docks, and that Ms. Goldstein may have been spotted there. My sources tell me that she was last spotted near the Brompton Cemetery. I will be heading there to investigate. Tell Newt and his friends to meet me there as soon as he is able._”

“That’s great news! Where is -- where’s that cemetery place?” Jacob asked, his eyes alight with newfound hope. Newt hesitated, sharing Leta’s continued skepticism and distress, but he found that Jacob’s enthusiasm was simply too bright to quench.

“Brompton. It’s about 30 minutes away, maybe?”

“Yes!” Jacob shouted with a loud clap. “I’m coming, baby!”

Before Newt could process the meaning of his friend’s words, before Leta could wrench herself free from her deep inner thoughts, and before Tina could move to grab the baker’s arm to keep him rooted in place, Jacob turned and sprinted with alarming speed towards the apartment door. He barely managed to grab his coat off of the hook on which it rested, flying out into the unfamiliar hallway into an even more unfamiliar city with Tina hot on his heels.

“Jacob, wait! _Jacob_!” she shouted, the door swinging shut in her face as she faltered in her pursuit to glance back expectantly (and somewhat pleadingly) to the other occupants of the room.

Newt and Leta’s eyes met.

“We should probably go after him,” Newt said matter-of-factly.

“I suppose we must,” Leta agreed, but her deep frown gave away just how unenthusiastic she was at what possible future awaited them if they did.


	15. Chapter 15 - The Lost

Queenie was beginning to think that the universe had something against her.

First, she had gotten turned around on her way to Tower Hill and had to double back around. Then, after feeling the jubilant relief of finally walking into the PLA Headquarters, she was told by the (rather stuffy and rude) secretary that Tina’s name was not in the registry. Then, to add insult to injury, the latch on her suitcase came loose in the middle of their disagreement and sent her personal belongings scattering across the marble floor. She had gathered them all up in a rush as every eye in the lobby turned to watch, and with her face burning red and her previous relief a distant fallacy, she had fled the PLA Headquarters back into the cold London streets.

She forced herself not to cry, telling herself over and over that she had spent all her tears the night before — and that Vinda would think of her as weak if she gave in to her despair.

At first, the Nereid had not quite understood why the French naval captain had been such a comfort to her despite barely knowing her. Contrary to what most believed when they first met her, Queenie wasn’t an air-brain bimbo, and she knew that she had to be cautious around this mysterious stranger despite her apparent kindness. Her ability to shut Queenie out of her mind was still unnerving, and her selfless hospitality seemed almost too good to be true. So why, the Nereid had to wonder, was she still so drawn to her?

But then, out of nowhere, it hit her — Vinda reminded her of Tina.

Brave, determined women who refused to back down from a challenge. Kind, compassionate sisters who held her hand when she was hurting and guiding her onto the right path. They were so different, for certain, and yet Queenie could imagine both standing side by side in her mind and couldn’t help but smile at the similarities.

She wondered if there was no other choice but to head back to Vinda’s ship. After all, Tina was nowhere to be found and if the registry was to be believed, she either wasn’t even docked in London yet or had already departed. Queenie still had no idea where Newt’s house was located, and Jacob...well, she still hadn’t seen him anywhere, either.

She pulled out the map Vinda had given her, tracing her steps backward and heading back the way she had come. It wasn’t the most desirable solution, but at least she knew that Vinda would welcome her back while she tried to think of another plan. Perhaps there was a town hall she could go to that had Newt’s address on file? Or the police — no, no, she couldn’t go to the authorities. She was in the country illegally, without any official documents or ways to prove she wasn’t trying to start any trouble.

As she slowly wandered the sidewalks through blankets of disappearing fog, a familiar, comforting voice called out to her in the distance.

“Queenie!” Vinda’s heels clicked against the stones as she drifted across the street like a dark specter, her black coat billowing out behind her and a tall, mousy looking man following her like a shadow. “I am so glad I found you!”

“Vinda?” Queenie was surprised to feel the same relief that had coursed through her veins when she’s reached her destination when her eyes fell onto her newest female companion.

“I was afraid that I would miss you. Did you have any luck finding your sister?” she asked politely, only to frown when Queenie’s head shook.

“She wasn’t in their files,” she said. Vinda made a sympathetic sound in her throat, reaching forward to place her hand on Queenie’s shoulder. The constant, lurking buzzing of the world’s thoughts disappeared beneath the silence that always came with the captain’s touch — a silence that would normally chill her to the core, that caressed her skin like a cool summer breeze, soothing her soul and smoothing her jagged edges.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I have good news!” Vinda said with a smile. “A crewman of mine arrived after you left with some whispers on the wind. Apparently, there have been sightings of a strange duo — an awkward man with a suitcase and an American with a mustache — down near the docks at a local cemetery.”

“That sounds like Jacob and Newt!” Queenie gasped with a grin.

_Finally_! Some good news!

“My dear Abernathy tells me he knows where this cemetery is. Would it be alright if we lead you there?” Vinda asked. Queenie was so relieved, so elated, that she didn’t even hesitate.

“Yes! Oh, please! That would be wonderful!”

* * *

They made a strange, unsettling game of Follow the Leader as they made their way down the London streets. Jacob wasn’t a very fast runner, but he’d had a decent head start and the desperation of a worried lover pulsing through his veins. Tina followed closely behind, determined but pacing herself, and followed then by Newt and Leta. The two natives shouted directions whenever they noticed the baker heading in the wrong direction but did not waste their breath trying to convince him to stop.

“Left, Jacob!” Newt called, and he heard Leta huff an incredulous breath beside him.

“Is it wrong that I’m surprised he can move this fast?” she asked sheepishly. Newt couldn’t help but laugh.

“He’s full of surprises! That’s one of the reasons I like him!”

They continued down the winding streets, but eventually even Jacob’s determination could not convince his body to push beyond its limits. His pace slowed, his steps became uneven and heavy, and as the sounds of boat horns and mid-day sailors grew ever closer in the distance, the baker finally accepted his defeat and hunkered to a heaving stop. Tina was not far behind, placing her hands on his shoulders and glancing around at their surroundings.

“Are you alright?” she gasped. Jacob tried to wave her worries away, but from the way he was bent over at the waist and fighting for his next breath, he was visibly too tired to put any heart into it.

“I’m — it’s — oh, God!” Newt and Leta joined their comrades in short order, with Newt offering Jacob an encouraging smile that the baker couldn’t see.

“Impressive work, Jacob!” he praised. “You covered a lot of ground!”

“Heh, ugh! Thanks, man!”

“Are we close? I don’t want to get there when it’s dark,” Tina spoke up. Newt ran a hand through his tangled locks as his eyes took in the lines of buildings and lampposts surrounding them. He couldn’t see the boats and ships along the docks, but the familiar sounds of the sea were not too far away.

“We’ve a ways to go, yet, but it’s not too far,” he said with hesitation. “Tina, that letter that we received…I don’t —”

“Ah, Miss Goldstein!” Tina jumped and turned with her shoulders tensed. Through the milling bodies of the afternoon, a familiar silhouette approached with his hands deep inside his coat pockets. “Have you had any —”

Lieutenant Kama drew up short as he took in the odd sight before him. His dark eyes flicked from Jacob’s sweating fact to Tina’s shock and embarrassment, and finally settling on where Newt and Leta hovered uncomfortably at the edge of their small huddle.

“Lieutenant! I, uh —” Tina started to say, but Leta interrupted with a quiet gasp that echoed deafeningly across the winds.

“Yusuf?”

Newt glanced back at her with his brows furrowed in confusion.

“You know each other?” he asked, but even he could tell that the beautiful Vampire and exotic sailor only had eyes for one another.

“Is that really you — my little sister?” Lieutenant Kama approached as if in a daze, a dark shadow of anguish and grief spreading like a stain across his expression. Leta stood frozen and unafraid as Tina looked between the two siblings in shock.

“_Sister_?” she asked. Newt almost dropped his suitcase as the similarities in their facial features became suddenly apparent, and he couldn’t help but feel slightly hurt by the fact that Leta had never confided this secret to him despite all the times they’d spent comforting and confiding in each other. In their youthful school years, she had mentioned a younger brother that was the apple of her father’s eye, but the existence of any older siblings never came up once.

“Yes,” Lieutenant Kama said, his previously stoic and disciplined air shattered by a lifetime of painful memories. “My father was Mustafa Kama, a sailor of Sénégalese descent and most accomplished. My mother, Laurena, was equally high-bred — a noted beauty…they were deeply in love.”

His eyes fell on Leta’s face once more, his pain hardening into fury as he told his tale.

“They knew a man of great influence, from a famous French Vampire family. He desired her, and so…Count Lestrange turned my mother into a thrall and abducted her…that was the last time I ever saw her,” he explained. Leta’s head bowed to hide the shame and remorse that flitted across her face, and the sight of her pain softened the Lieutenant’s anger enough for him to place his hand gently against her arm. “She died, giving birth to a little girl…you.”

“I’m sorry, Yusuf,” Leta whispered, causing Jacob to shake his head violently and bravely step forward.

“Hey, now, you don’t have to apologize!” he said, glaring at the tall sailor and visibly trying to keep his voice down. “It wasn’t _her_ fault!” 

“Yes, Mister Kowalski, you are correct. I promise you that I hold no ill will towards Leta,” Lieutenant Kama said placatingly. Leta glanced up at her half-brother with twisted lips and tear-brimmed eyes, and he forced himself to smile through his grief. “You look more and more like our mother every day. I’m glad I got the chance to see you again.”

Leta shook her head, accepting the Lieutenant’s words without a fight but clearly not believing herself worthy of them.

“Lieutenant Kama, I’m so sorry to interrupt this moment, but I’m afraid we’re in a bit of a hurry,” Tina said with hesitation. “We received word that my sister may be at the Brompton Cemetery, and we want to make sure she’s alright.”

“…a cemetery? Why would anyone go there without having family to pay respects to?” he wondered aloud, and Newt had to admit that he agreed.

“We’re not sure the information is good, or safe,” Newt said with a pointed look to Leta. “It could be a trap.”

“Wha — set by who?” Jacob demanded.

“I don’t know, but it is awfully convenient, isn’t it?” Newt asked. Tina sighed and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her trench coat with a grimace.

“Maybe. Or we could finally be catching some good luck. After all, what are the odds that my boss and your childhood friend are related? And yet, here we are,” the Nereid pointed out, gesturing to where the siblings stood side by side. Newt shrugged, conceding that point with as much grace as he could muster.

“I suppose so.”

“Well, if it _is_ a trap, then you’ll need all the help that you can get.” Lieutenant Kama adjusted his hat and brushed off the front of his coat. “I would be happy to assist.”

“Sir, you don’t have to —"

“I understand, Miss Goldstein, but it is no trouble, I assure you,” he said. He smiled at Leta again, and after a moment, the Vampire allowed herself to return it. “You are the only family I have left. Forgive me for wanting to ensure your safety.”

“…well, okay then!” Jacob said with a nervous chuckle. “Let’s get a move on!”

And with that, the baker took off down the street with renewed energy and left his growing group of friends to follow in haste.

* * *

Credence glanced at the paper in his hand, an action that his common sense told him that he didn’t really need to perform after the fiftieth time. Silence had fallen over the two outcasts once the realization of their reality had hit, and they had spent the next few hours walking and consulting their crude map with the reverence of a beggar searching the depths of a holy book for meaning in their suffering. Nagini stayed close, keeping her arm clutched tightly in the crux of Credence’s elbow as they muddled along, and kindly kept her reassurances to herself.

The docks were sparse of average London citizens but rich with life in terms of sailors and shady vagabonds searching for new lives out on the sea. The salt in the air was a balm on the Selkie’s wounded heart and soul, and even the underlying taint of coal and smoke couldn’t stop him from taking a deep, soothing breath.

“Are you alright?” Nagini asked, her voice soft and worn from disuse. Credence smiled at her, nodding his head and looking beyond the tall brick walls and busy streets that lay between him and the ocean.

“I can smell the sea,” he explained.

“Ah. I wish I could,” she groused with a small smile. “I’m not a fan of the smog.”

“You and me both.” How he desperately wanted to sprint to the closest edge of the docks and fling his body into the icy depths, bundling himself up in his silky skin and burying his body into the sand and seaweed hidden from sight. But he could only focus on one screaming instinct at a time, and the one telling him to find Newt and fall safely into his arms was undoubtedly more pressing.

They wandered through the various shipping ports and gangplanks, stopping occasionally at less-questionable looking ships to ask if any of the workers had seen anyone matching Newt and Jacob’s descriptions. Some sailors entertained them but were completely unable to assist them in any meaningful way. Others waved them away from their workspaces with impatient scowls and harsh words. Minute after long minute, hour after endless hour, Credence walked with Nagini rubbing warm circles over his back and a gaping hole of hopelessness spreading within his chest.

And then, just when he wondered if his suffering would ever end, Nagini stopped walking, rubbed her shoulder, and glanced off into the distance with a deep frown and narrowed eyes.

“Nagini?” Credence asked, worried that her injury was causing her discomfort after all of their traveling.

“Sorry, I — I just thought I saw —”

“What?”

“You said that your partner...he has red hair and a suitcase, yes?” Nagini asked, her words hesitant and small. Credence glanced in the direction she had been staring, the gaping hole seizing and pulsing with desperate anticipation.

“Yes! Why? Did you see him?”

“I — I don’t know —”

“Where?” His eyes followed where she pointed far beyond the docks and toward a cluster of warehouses lining a long, thin road. “And you’re sure that’s what you saw?”

“I’m not sure. I thought I did. He was with other people, too, but I didn’t get a good look at them,” she explained. Credence hesitated only for a moment, debating whether it was better to risk missing the only opportunity that had presented itself thus far or risk getting lost in the depths of the city again. In the end, his desperation far outweighed his cautious unease.

“Let’s go!”

Together they sprinted down the streets and past the rows of rusting warehouse buildings, this time with Nagini leading the way. The next few minutes, told only through the aching in the Selkie’s legs and the spreading orange tint of the sky above, were a tiresome dance of running, stopping, pointing, and running again until Nagini had led him past the outskirts of the warehouse district and up to the back entrance of a vast cemetery.

“This is it,” Nagini whispered. Credence glanced at her in confusion, his eyes taking in the rows of crumbling headstones and towering trees.

“What do you mean...why would Newt come here?” he pondered aloud.

“Because we led him here.”

The slimy, mocking voice burst through Credence’s sense of peace and safety in an instant. He turned, shocked and hackles raised, but was grabbed by the back of his neck and yanked off balance before he could react any further. He stumbled, he gasped, but the hand gripped fast and forced him to stand still and compliant while Nagini whimpered in fear not two feet away. 

Credence recognized the voice as that of the beast hunter — what was his name? Grimmson? — that he had been so sure they had outrun.

“Don’t hurt him, please!” the Maledictus pleaded, reaching for Credence just as a second figure emerged from the shadows and grabbed her arm.

“Shut up, you grody animal!” Nagini flinched away from Skender’s scowling face, and the sickened anger that spread like wildfire through Credence’s veins rekindled his instincts to fight. He pulled at the fierce grip around his neck, using his arms to try and break free before Skender could harm his friend in any way.

“Now, now, there’s no need for that,” Grimmson said in his ear, wrapping his free hand around Credence’s upper arm to keep him in place. “We’re under strict orders to keep you alive and unharmed...Credence Barebone.”

The Selkie froze, his inner fire drowned in icy waves of terror.

“Oh, yes, we’ve heard quite a bit about you! About your little stint on the MACUSA, your escape, and of course, what you really are.” The beast hunter chuckled, low and self-satisfied. The slimy ringmaster gleefully copied his partner’s laughter as he twirled a gold staff with a glistening ruby stone in his free hand. Nagini stood shaking and beginning to cry beside him, not even trying to make an escape from her former (and current) captor.

“If you know who I am, then you know how valuable I can be,” Credence growled. “Nagini has nothing to do with this. Let her go!”

“Nothing to do with it? HA!” Skender shook the Maledictus by the arm in a cruel mocking of his power over her, and the smirk he threw in Credence’s direction was almost pitying. “Oh, you poor fool. You still haven’t figured it out, have you?”

“Don’t...please…” she sobbed, hiding her face from the Selkie’s view as Skender continued to laugh.

“How do you think we found you so easily, hmm?” the ringmaster asked, lifting his scepter and mockingly tapping at the ruby with his finger. “How did we know that you would be here?”

“…Nagini?” Credence couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe that it was even possible — but he could see it in her wet eyes and tortured face as clear as day.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t have a choice!”

And suddenly it all made sense. The ugly red brand on her shoulder, the glistening stone, Grimmson’s sudden attack and the constant circles they had been running in all day long. It was all a trap, a setup to get him exactly where they wanted him at exactly the right time, and he had fallen for it all hook, line, and sinker.

His mortification quickly turned to fury, but just as he was about to summon a violent storm to punish his subduers, Skender noticed the shift in his expression and shook his head with a chastising snicker.

“Ah, ah, ah! I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Skender pressed down on the ruby with his thumb, sending Nagini bending over in agony and clutching at her shoulder as her mouth hung open in a silent scream. While she was distracted, he reached up and twisted the top and bottom of his cane in different directions, separating the two to reveal a sharp knife hidden in the hollowed center of the cane. He discarded the empty golden sheath, grabbing Nagini’s arm once more and jabbing the tip of the blade against her heaving neck.

“No!” Credence begged, the silent call for magical aid dying in the back of his throat. Nagini’s eyes widened as she realized the danger she was in, but Skender paid her no heed.

“I’ll only warn you once — try anything funny, and the snake gets beheaded,” he said.

Credence swallowed, considered his options, and slowly nodded his understanding before allowing himself to be pushed and aimed toward the back of the cemetery.

“A wise choice,” Grimmson said. “Now, let’s go see what your friends are all up to. And remember..._Not_._ A_._ Sound_.”

* * *

Queenie had been in cemeteries before, certainly with enough frequency that Tina could always find her curled up at their parents’ graves whenever she’d ran away from home. Cemeteries were cold, misleadingly full of colorful flowers and plant life to hide the rotting bodies beneath the surface, and only those with a lack of common sense and self-preservation would dare to enter one as large as the Brompton Cemetery just as the sun was beginning to set. Had she not been so desperate to find Jacob, and had Vinda and her Lieutenant not been so comforting a presence at her side, the blonde Nereid would have turned tail and run as fast as she could from the sight before her.

The front of the cemetery was beautiful and exactly what one would expect such a place to look like, but the further they walked among the dirt paths winding around the rows of headstones, the more the facade began to fade away. Neatly bricked tombs turned into crumbling ruins, marble angels fell into broken piles of rubble, and soon there were barely any tidy plots in sight. They walked and walked until they came upon a large, flat piece of land surrounded by pillars and stones, and among the shadows, Queenie noticed a strange number of crates, ropes, barrels, and flickering lanterns and torches.

“What is this?” she wondered aloud, and Vinda placed a steady hand on her shoulder with a smile.

“We are not far from the warehouse district. It’s not uncommon for sailors and workers to stash their supplies here since it’s not used as much,” she explained. They glanced around at the barren grounds, searching for any threats or signs of human life.

They did not have to wait long.

Like a burst of starlight cutting through the endless darkness, Jacob ran (with some obvious fatigue and difficulty) through the opposite end of the ruins and eyed the flickering torches on the nearest walls with unease. Queenie’s breath left her in a single, deep sigh of jubilation, and she wasted no time in dropping her suitcase and charging at her beloved with open arms and a laugh upon her lips. The baker turned and met her eyes halfway, his thoughts erupting into a brilliant, colorful display of love and hopeful disbelief.

“Queenie?” It was amazing how easily Jacob’s voice soothed her emptiness with its notes of euphoria and relief.

“Jacob! Honey, you’re here!” she cried, throwing her arms around him with reckless abandon and letting his warmth and thoughts of affection seep into her bones. He gently pulled away to look at her face, visibly checking her over for injuries.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes! I’m fine!” She read his mind, only half-unconsciously, and saw how their last interaction still weighed heavily on his mind. She, too, felt the cold tendrils of guilt brushing against her rekindled happiness, and decided that it was too stubborn and cruel to keep holding his well-intentioned fears against him. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry, I never should have done it, I love you so much —”

Jacob smiled at her, brushing the side of her face with a gentle hand.

“And you know that I love you, right?” he asked, but he didn’t need to. She saw just how sick with worry he had been, how broken and lost he had felt when she’d disappeared into thin air. She saw his heart, his desire, his love, and most importantly, she saw that her happily ever after was more within her reach than it ever had been before.

“Yeah.” She smiled and nodded, returning his affectionate gesture with one of her own and running her fingers through his slicked, dark hair.

The sound of running feet approached from where Jacob had appeared, and when Queenie glanced up in concern, she watched as a small band of figures both familiar and strange alike skidded to a halt a few steps behind them. Newt was there, never without his suitcase and billowing coat, and Queenie she was surprised to see Tina hovering behind him and shuffling her feet across the dirt once she laid eyes on the happily reunited couple.

“Tina?”

“Hey, Queenie,” she said, her lips twitching and yet not fully forming a smile. “I’m…glad to see you’re okay.”

And she was, of that Queenie was certain. But beneath the thoughts of sibling protectiveness, something darker and more unexpected lurked in her older sister’s mind. It was fuzzy, at first, and Queenie had trouble distinguishing what precisely she was hearing, but then the initial solace in her safety fell away to reveal…

“Wait…why are you angry with me?” she demanded, causing Tina’s eyes to widen and take a shocked step back.

“What — I’m — I’m not —”

“Yes, you are!” Queenie accused while Jacob tried to soothe her growing exasperation by petting her arm.

“Queenie, honey —”

“No, I — I spent all this time looking for you!” she continued. “I thought you’d be happy to see me!”

“I _am_ happy to see you!” Tina said, but her furrowed brows and defensive expression implied that she was lying. Newt looked back and forth between the two sisters, awkwardly trying not to bring any attention to himself and failing miserably.

“But?” Queenie offered, knowing that honest, forthright Porpentina Esther Goldstein would never back down from a chance to argue that she was right and that everyone else was wrong. And like a starving wolf in a coop of defenseless hens, she took the bait.

“…but where have you been?! We’ve been running ourselves ragged trying to find you!” Tina said. “We were worried sick! We thought you were lost and…did you even think about how running off would make us feel?”

“Hey! Hey, now, that’s — look, all that matters is that everyone is alright, yeah?” Jacob said. “We’re all together now, and that’s a good thing!” 

“Monsieur Kowalski is correct,” one of the strangers suddenly spoke up. Everyone turned to where the dark-skinned Lieutenant hovered on the edge of their group, a welcomed outsider perspective among their rising, biased emotions. “A major goal has been accomplished. Your family has returned safe and sound, and that is something you should not take for granted.”

“Yusuf,” Leta murmured, but he gave her a small reassuring smile.

“You needn’t worry about me, little sister,” he said softly.

“Yeah, see? The Lieutenant’s right! Queenie’s safe. Now, let’s get the hell out of here and look for Credence,” Jacob said with an uncomfortable chuckle. The baker took ahold of Queenie’s hand and began to pull her away from the ruins, but she quickly grabbed his arm and gave him a distracting smile 

“Oh, wait! Wait a second. I wanted to introduce you to my new friend!” Queenie said, glancing back from where she’d arrived and smiling expectantly at where Vinda sauntered into the outer circle of the ruins.

“Friend?” Tina asked suspiciously, and when she saw the stoic, sophisticated woman standing just far away enough from their gathering place to be intimidating, the Nereid stepped forward with her shoulders squared and visibly ready for battle.

“Everyone, that’s Captain Vinda. She found me when I was lost and she gave me a place to stay,” Queenie explained. She waved over to Vinda, who did not move but instead called out to them in a cold, composed voice.

“Good evening, madams and monsieurs. Forgive my intrusion. It is good to finally put names to faces,” she said, running her dark eyes over each of their faces as their respective names fell from her blood-red lips. “Newton Scamander. Tina Goldstein. Jacob Kowalski.”

“…wait, I…I didn’t…tell you their names…” Queenie realized slowly, all the warmth of finding her love slowly dissipating to leave icy horror in its wake. Vinda only smirked in response.

“You didn’t have to. I know exactly who you all are,” she said. “My dears, did you honestly think that _Sa Majesté_ Grindelwald was alone?”

“What?” Queenie’s eyes widened, in the fading light of the sun, the curious and suspicious thoughts of the minds surrounding her suddenly twisted and transformed until they were betrayed and enraged.

“You’re _friends_ with one of Grindelwald’s followers?!” Tina gasped in disbelief, stepping closer to Newt’s side as her thoughts ran in panicked, confused circles inside of her head. “And you led her right to us? What were you _thinking_, Queenie?!”

Queenie shook her head, turning back and forth to stare at the friend to whom she owed so much and the family that now looked at her as if she had grown two heads.

“I — I —”

But nothing she could say would help her now. She saw that Tina’s smoldering anger had burst into an explosion of exasperated resentment, her mind ablaze with accusations and disappointment. She heard Jacob’s cautious justifications for her use of the love potion and subsequent departure shatter like glass beneath the weight of his doubts. And everyone else, distant in their understanding of who she was and all that she had suffered, saw her only as a brainless child placing her trust all too easily in the hands of the wrong people.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, defeated. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Do not blame yourself, Queenie. I meant everything I said,” Vinda called out. “We want only for you and all those of the sea to take control of your destinies! We want to give you everything that you rightfully deserve!”

“We?” Newt growled, his grip upon the handle of his suitcase tightening.

“Oh, my apologies! I had almost forgotten — you haven’t met your host for this evening.” Vinda’s giggle was cold and uncomfortably delighted in the deepening darkness of the skies above. “_Mon roi_, would you care to join us?”

“It would be my honor, my queen.”

Dread crept down the spines of those who had gathered like a careful spider weaving a trail of silk. Their stomachs filled with lead, their feet were frozen to the ground, and their minds grew hazy with horrified silence. They could not fight the coming truth any more than they could change the tides. They could not deny that which was laid so clearly before them, the echoes of torment and chilling nightmares that the approaching voice wrenched back up to the surface and squeezed until they bled.

Gellert Grindelwald stepped out from the shadows — a vengeful ghost, alive and well.


	16. Chapter 16 - Graves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the new tags! Warnings for some blood and violence.

Percival Graves died when he was ten years old.

His father had taken him on weekly fishing trips since the day he started walking, teaching him the nuances of casting a line and reeling in your catch with minimal struggle. The day that changed the course of his life had been like so many others, the skies clear and bright as they set sail along the beach in their tiny boat. The storm had been unexpected, unplanned for, and it hit with such velocity and force that they couldn’t have escaped its clutches if they tried. The waves had sent their boat capsizing and their fragile bodies flying like ragdolls into the dark depths below. A life vest had kept Percival floating, struggling, drowning slowly for only a minute before it slipped off his tiny frame and disappeared into the void forever.

Sharp, salty water had filled his lungs as he sank beneath the ocean surface, and everything else had gone black.

He woke up some unexplained time later with his face pressed into the sand, his father’s weeping form curled over him and pressing his entire body weight down on his tiny shoulder blades. The water had burned coming up, that much he remembered clearly, and he was left shivering and weak in the terrifying aftermath of the darkness that had come for him far too soon. His father was never the same, after, refusing to ever set foot near the water again and spiraling into a deep depression that he never fully recovered from. 

But Percival hadn’t become frightened of the sea that had tried so hard to claim his life — instead, he was furious.

They had always respected the sea, so why had it attacked them so mercilessly? His father had been a brave and confident man; why would the sea rip those admirable traits away from him? What had a young boy like him done to deserve death, let alone a death full of pain and fear, by nature’s uncaring hand?

It didn’t take long for his new mission in life to emerge in his mind. He vowed to never again let the sea steal from him, bully him, drag him down to such a pathetic level of mortality. He swore that the sea would be the one to tremble before him, that he would conquer this malevolent force and compel it to do his bidding for as long as he still had breath.

‘_I am not afraid of you_,’ he’d spat hatefully with tears in his young eyes. ‘_I won’t let you kill me again_.’

And so he grew and learned everything he could about the sea, about its history, about all of the creatures in it and how the Human race had evolved to coexist beside them. He became one of the most talented sailors the American coast had ever seen, as well as one of the most ruthless fishermen and hunters his home had to offer. Joining the US Navy was child’s play, working his way up the ranks was a boring necessity, and finding a crew that would follow his every command without question was a task completed within two years’ time.

He learned the art of language and poetry, of disguise and deceit, and by the time he reached his middle years, the pirate Gellert Grindelwald had been born to rule.

‘_I am not afraid of you_,’ he’d sworn from behind the wheel of his most precious ship. ‘_I will conquer you, if it’s the last thing I do_.’

It was only natural for him to ensnare the first Selkie he had come across, playing the young man’s naivety and kind heart against him. He’d been hesitant of Percival at first, as expected, but that suspicion had melted away beneath the warmth of the Captain’s soft praises and false enthusiasm for his magical knowledge. He’d lured him in with promises of protection, of affection, and the man who would become Credence Barebone had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. The resulting thrill of having total control over the sea was unlike anything Percival had ever experienced before, and that thrill managed to calm his inner fire into something far more peaceful for the next five blissful years.

He should have known it wouldn’t last, that the sea wouldn’t take his challenge without retribution.

* * *

The sea blind-sighted him with the summoning of Newt Scamander, throwing his entire plan into chaos from the moment the British bastard had stepped foot onto his ship. He’d taken Scamander for a fool, a weakling that was too far beneath him to be a threat, and now he suffered the consequences of that arrogance. It was a special type of demeaning to watch everything he had worked for completely shattered to pieces by the band of misfit outcasts of Scamander and his friends, all while the weapon he had groomed so carefully turned his mystical powers against him.

At least he’s gotten a few good hits in on the so-called magizoologist before Credence sent him flying into the sea.

His skin was already too drenched and numb from the rain to feel the sting of the thrashing waves, and it took a moment for him to comprehend which direction to swim for air. The wind roared in his ears as he broke through the surface with a croaked gasp, searching in the darkness for anything that might serve as a floatation device in his time of dire need. There were countless burned and broken planks of wood bobbing in the waters around him, but the sea was unrelenting in his torment as it pushed any plank he reached for away. He quickly realized that thrashing and rolling along the surface was only going to sap his energy away.

Thankfully, Percival Graves had not gotten to his position of power in the Navy by being a complete moron, and he had prepared years in advance for such possible setbacks.

The silver phial hanging by a chain from his neck was filled with a special potion he’d negotiated from a powerful apothecary in his youth, able to grant the consumer the ability to breathe underwater for about an hour after consuming only a few drops. He’d kept it safe and protected for many years, never willing to allow his luck to run out by the savagery of chance, and now he hastily jammed it into his mouth with hateful desperation. The potion was tangy and thick on his tongue, a shocking taste that reminded him of blood mixing with the small mouthfuls of seawater that he couldn’t avoid, and he kept the phial sitting at the back of his mouth as he allowed his body to sink beneath the waves.

The potion worked almost instantly, the endless abyss he floated in turning to air as if by magic whenever it passed through his nostrils. He forced himself to take calm, slow breaths through the shock of the cold, the storm above him raging on without taking notice of his actions. He floated aimlessly, his mind blank except for the desire to live another day, until the echoes of thunder faded away and the sway of the ocean slowed to a halt around him.

His eyes were blind as he forced his limbs to move, pushing and kicking his way back up to the surface and clumsily capping the phial to protect the minute amount of potion that remained. The wreckage of his beloved MACUSA floated around him in silent testimony to his poor judgment, and he wasted no time in swimming to the largest floating piece of wood he could find. Getting out of the water was the first step, the only step that he could reasonably complete in his circumstances, and the next was to search for land.

It took a day of paddling with another piece of driftwood, of searching on the distant horizon, until he managed to spot a black cluster of rocks floating in the center of the sea — a small, cold oasis he had no choice but to call his new home for the foreseeable future.

He collapsed on the rocks and managed to drag his makeshift raft up beside him, his uniform stained black with saltwater and ripped from his turbulent journey out of the wreckage. Time passed him by as he lay crumpled and seething through his fatigue, unable to summon any more adrenaline to his aid now that he had found a temporary reprieve. Eventually, however, the hunger twisting his stomach into knots became too much to bear, and he forced himself to use the last of his energy to hunt with the rough excuse of a spear he made from his limited supply of wood. The fish’s flesh was rough to get down his throat with no way to cook it, but it subdued his starvation enough for him to put his experimental plan into action.

“_I dreamed a dream the other night._

_Lowlands, lowlands away me John._

_My love she came, dressed all in white._

_Lowlands away._

_I dreamed my love came in my sleep_

_Lowlands, lowlands away me John_

_Her cheeks were wet, her eyes did weep_

_Lowlands away_.”

His voice was scratched and weak, but still, he forced himself to press on with the song he’d learned from his father so long ago. He stared up at the clear skies with fury burning through his veins as the lyrics echoed weakly in the salty air around him. It was a gamble, this singing, but what other choice did he really have? It was sing and hope…or wait for death to claim him.

He had to stop in between verses every now and again, but still he forced himself to endure the pain. It would be worth it — he had to believe it would be worth it.

“_She came to me at my bedside_

_Lowlands, lowlands away me John_

_All dressed in white, like some fair bride_

_Lowlands away._

_And bravely in her bosom fair_

_Lowlands, lowlands away me John_

_Her red, red rose, my love did wear_

_Lowlands away_.”

Slowly, again and again, he sang to an audience of no one. Hours passed to the point his clothes began to crust and his broken wooden raft dried almost completely, but nothing around him seemed to change. As the sky began to fade into the gentle golden hues of twilight, however, he finally heard a soft splashing near the edge of the rocky formation beneath him.

He mentally prepared himself, taking a deep breath and forcing his face into an expression of bleak desperation and melancholy, before slowly turning his head and staring into the cold yellow eyes hovering by the water’s edge.

Newt Scamander had not been the only one to research the behaviors and tendencies of the beasts that lived inside the ocean’s depths. It was well-documented that merpeople were naturally drawn to music of any kind, and that they were an organized and peaceful race unless their way of life was directly threatened. To hear a sudden Human song in the middle of the silent ocean was to dangle an irresistible bait in front of their noses.

The merman observing him was as disgusting as the illustrations he’d seen growing up had foretold it would be, dark green hair cascading down its face and shoulders like seaweed and covering blueish-grey skin that reminded the stranded Captain of a frozen corpse. A long, silver tail swished idly in the water behind the silent creature, easily stretching at least seven feet from the first scale to membranous fin. The expression on the creature’s face was curious, yet suspicious, and it took every ounce of energy left in Percival’s weary form not to look away.

“...are you here to kill me?” he rasped, not even needing to act in order to make himself sound helpless and pitiful. The merman did not respond with words, as Percival knew it wouldn’t, but also did not recoil or move to attack. A good sign, considering the unpredictable nature of this chance encounter. “Or are you going to wait until I die of natural causes?”

He swallowed the dryness in the back of his throat and turned his eyes back to the sky. He stayed silent and still, waiting to see what this predator would make of him, and his patience was rewarded when a vibrating hum that matched the melody of his previous singing reverberated through the air beside him. The voice was deep and full of magic, sending shivers of pleasure and revulsion up his spine in equal measure. He kept his head still as he closed his eyes and joined in, knowing the only way to gain the merman’s trust was to manufacture a bond between them — and such a sleight of hand did not happen without compromise and time.

“_She made no sound, no word she said_

_Lowlands, lowlands away me John_

_And then I knew my love was dead_

_Lowlands away._

_Then I awoke to hear the cry_

_Lowlands, lowlands away me John_

_Oh watch, on deck_

_Oh watch, ahoy_

_Lowlands away._”

He winced as he forced himself to cough once the song was done, rolling onto his side to face the merman and making himself appear as small and vulnerable as possible. Tears he allowed to flow freely burned his vision, but even so, he could see the alarm and concern upon the creature’s face.

‘_I don’t want your damn pity_!’ he growled in his mind.

“I’m sorry,” he said aloud, offering up a small, charming smile. “I’m not...at my most dignified...at the moment.”

The merman’s head tilted to the side, clearly not understanding his words, but still did not move into a more defensive position on the rocks. Percival allowed the conversation to fall into silence, closing his eyes and forcing his breaths to slow. After a few minutes, the sounds of splashing reached his ears and faded away, and when he opened his eyes again the merman had disappeared once more.

‘_The trap has been set. Let’s see if it works._’

* * *

The makeshift raft had served as an uncomfortable mattress for him to sleep on, thus keeping his body suspended off the cold of the rocks and preventing a quick death from hypothermia. He knew he could only survive on raw fish flesh for so long, but thankfully, his luck seemed to improve after his first day of isolation. Barely awake and still playing up his fatigue (if only mildly), he watched unnervingly as a grey hand sticking out of the water and carrying a large pink conch shell began to circle the base of the rock island. The merman slowly raised the rest of its upper body out of the water and placed the shell at the ledge, and Percival made sure to stay extremely still and distant until the merman had backed off.

The conch was filled with clear water, and after hesitantly dipping his tongue into its depths, he realized that the merman had provided him with fresh water to quench his thirst.

“Thank you,” he said genuinely, gulping down just enough of the water to banish his sore throat and pounding headache. Afterward, he bit his tongue and graced the merman with a wide smile and a deep bow that bruised his already wounded pride. “How can I ever repay you?”

The merman didn’t understand, but as Percival had hoped, it appeared to at least comprehend the message. It shook its head, its grey lips tilting up ever-so-slightly as it floated further away from Percival’s reach. The Captain had to admit that it was a wise move on his provider’s part, and settled into a comfortable position against the rocks to wait out the battle.

And so he began to sing a new song, unmoving from his position as the two males stared at one another, and a strange wordless routine developed between them.

Every morning, the stranded Captain would awake to a freshly filled conch shell and a piercing yellow gaze fixed on him in the distance. The merman would disappear beneath the waves and Percival would use the solitude as an opportunity to hunt for fish, which he first ate raw before he tested his luck and motioned his request for more pieces of wood. The merman surprisingly obliged, fetching broken remnants of soaked planks from the great beyond and piling them up next to the shell every morning that passed. It took almost a full day of hard work and some unfortunate splinters, not helped by the fact that the merman watched his every move from the water, but Percival managed to create a small fire to use for warmth and cooking. The merman was particularly intrigued by this, but still maintained a safe distance (much to the Captain’s chagrin).

“If you’re going to be visiting me often, I’m going to have to call you something,” Percival said not long after the wood started piling up. “Do you have a name?”

The merman tilted its head, as it often did, with an expression of complete confusion. Percival bit back a frustrated shout and commanded his eyes not to roll, and instead gestured to himself and said his name very slowly and clearly.

“Graves,” he decided to offer, knowing his first name was most likely too difficult for a creature that did not speak his language. The merman blinked, its mouth slowly opening to reveal rows of sharp yellow teeth.

“**_Gggrrahvezzz…_**” it attempted, and even Percival had to admit that it was a fair first try. He nodded, repeating his last name over and over until the merman was able to parrot it back at him with a decent amount of accuracy. That settled, the Captain gestured to where the merman floated and raised his eyebrow in question.

The merman shook its head, its lips tightly sealed once more.

“Hmm, well how about I give you a name, then?” he offered with barely quenched contempt. He quickly tried to come up with a list, not really caring what they decided on. It wouldn’t matter in the long run. “Edward? Daniel? Colin?”

The merman denied each in turn, and they continued this song and dance until a surprising contender popped into Percival’s brain.

“Antonio?” The merman visibly paused and blinked, and thus another hurdle in Percival’s plan was cleared.

The allocation of a name seemed to bring about something more vulnerable in the merman’s behavior as little by little, day by day, it inched closer and closer into Percival’s personal space. During the short spans of time it was off galivanting freely in the ocean’s depths, the Captain would work on improving his makeshift raft as much as he was able, as well as drying out any fish that he could spare for the upcoming journey he had planned. Their tentative routine continued, and the time steadily passed, until Percival’s patience finally wore thinner than even he could handle.

‘_This is taking too long! It’s not progressing enough with things as they are_,’ he thought to himself. ‘_I’ll have to risk pushing a little_.’

And so, on a particularly sunny day approximately three weeks after his disastrous shipwreck, Percival stripped off his shirt and boots and slipped into the water to bathe at a time when he believed Antonio would be returning. He stayed within arm’s reach of the rocky island, keeping a close eye out for any predatory sea creatures, and made sure to hum Antonio’s favorite tune as he ran his fingers through his ever-growing hair and beard. At first, he was left undisturbed and floating by his lonesome.

But then, a familiar face emerged from the water right next to Percival’s shoulder, an expression of unparalleled curiosity on its face.

“Ah, hello,” he forced himself to say cheerfully. It would ruin everything if he allowed even a glimpse of his terror and disgust to show through. “I hope you don’t mind. I was really starting to smell.”

Antonio slowly trod water in wide arcs around him, bobbing every now and then beneath the surface before coming back up. Percival bit his tongue and allowed the merman to explore, to scrutinize him, knowing he had to remain the epitome of weak and defenseless if he was ever going to get farther into the creature’s good graces. When he felt gentle tugging on his kicking feet, he swallowed the sudden burst of adrenaline that pushed him to fight and flee and slowly meandered his way back to his rocky sanctuary for Antonio to follow.

“It’s okay, you can touch,” he assured gently, keeping his smile intact. “Let me just…”

He leaned back against the rocks, hooking his arms around the strongest perch he could find and letting his legs float on the water’s surface for Antonio to observe more freely. The merman’s fingers were slimy and cold as they raked over Percival’s skin, lifting his feet into the air one after another as if he had never seen such an appendage before. He felt the sting of bile in the back of his throat, which he fought to keep down as the merman’s explorations meandered up to his chest and then even into his dark hair.

‘_Just grin and bear it. You can do this. It’ll be worth it._’

Percival reached up and gently touched Antonio’s grey hand with his own, pressing their palms together to compare the small similarities in their anatomy. As he had hoped, the almost intimate gesture was met with wide eyes and slightly darkening cheeks, and Antonio floated in frozen shock as the moment stretched on in total silence. Percival tilted his head to the side questioningly, copying the gesture the merman had performed so many times in the past, and almost broke his carefully controlled facade when Antonio ducked forward to rub his cheek against their entwined hands.

‘_Oh, you poor, disgusting thing_,’ the Captain couldn’t help but think. ‘_So needy. You’re no different from all the others I’ve broken._’

But not today. He couldn’t make his move just yet. This new trust and affection was still too young, too fragile, and moving too quickly too soon would ruin everything he had worked for so far. And so, he returned to the top of his rocky tower when Antonio released him, gracing the merman with a new song and a blinding smile that promised nothing but friendship and joy. The merman appeared none the wiser to his darker thoughts and plans, its expression much more open and his body much more relaxed than before.

‘_One week_,’ Percival decided. ‘_We’ll play for another week, and then I’ll make my escape._’

* * *

The week in question came and went with more and more touches exchanged between them. The walls Antonio had put up to keep him at a distance slowly cracked and crumbled, to the point that Percival’s touch was frequently sought out. The marooned Captain never pushed the merman away, never let on just how much he despised every second of their necessary interactions. He had hidden from plain sight his pile of dried fish and sharpened wooden planks, using what remained of his uniform coat to fashion a crude sail and fit it to his improved raft.

He hoarded his supplies as much as he was able, and finally, it was on a decently warm and windy day that he decided that he had suffered on his barren rock formation long enough.

As always, Antonio delivered to him a full shell of freshwater that morning, and it was with a genuinely wide smile and a full stomach that Percival greeted him. He gently accepted the conch shell and set it aside, reaching down over the ledge to allow the merman to rub the side of its face into his hand. Antonio pulled its body up so that their faces were almost at equal heights, a hopeless mistake that Percival had been counting on, and smiled up at the Captain without hesitation.

“I owe you so much, Antonio, truly,” Percival said, allowing himself to acknowledge what little value the merman had provided to him in his time of need. After all, he could have easily died if nobody had heard his first song of temptation. “I will never forget all you’ve done for me.”

Antonio did not understand him, did not realize the danger it was in — all that mattered was the warm, affectionate tone that Percival’s voice had taken on.

“I’m sorry it had to end this way.”

Percival leaned down to rub the side of their faces together, an illusion of affection to hide the sharpened wooden dagger he pulled from inside his boot. He had sharpened the tip for days, making sure it wouldn’t fail him, and it slid into the merman’s unprotected throat with ease. Antonio’s eyes widened in horror and betrayal, its jaws dropping open in agony as Percival yanked its head back and stabbed at its neck repeatedly. The foolish creature didn’t even have time to scream, its body growing slack in Percival’s grasp as black blood poured in grotesque cascades down its grey torso.

The fire burned in the center of his former sanctuary as Percival yanked the heavy body out of the water, using the dagger to slice open the merman from chest to pelvic fins. He felt nothing but a dark sense of satisfaction and victory as pieces of bloody flesh came apart in his hands, making sure to get ample sections of both skinned and scaled meat before skewering them and placing them over the fire to cook. He tried to keep the amount of blood dripping into the waters below to a bare minimum to keep any predators away before and during his eventual departure.

He could only hope that all this hard work wouldn’t be in vain, that the legends he had read were true and that he would be granted the power he sought so desperately.

The meat of his former servant cooked within minutes, the edges crisping and blackening as he took them off the heat and prepared himself for a taste he would not be able to predict. He waited for them to cool, took a deep breath, and stuffed the pieces into his mouth before he could think too much about it. He was surprised at how salty and fish-like the flesh tasted, although in retrospect he shouldn’t have really expected much difference, and he quickly consumed two more pieces for good measure. His belly full, he took a small gulp of water from the shell before beginning to gather his things.

Barely a minute passed before his body began to change.

He doubled over as the merman’s flesh settled into his stomach, a sharp pain that quickly turned to numbness spreading up his chest and throat before continuing down to his limbs. His breaths came out in short, pained gasps as his eyes burned with tears and his skin turned to ice beneath the rays of the blazing sun. For a moment, he could have sworn all his senses disappeared, blind and deaf and dumb as the magic of the sea coursed through the blood and tissue beneath his fragile Human body. He vaguely wondered if this was the price all men paid when they took the life of something blessed by the sea — if this pain was the reason the legends remained as such, rather than a holy prize sought by all.

But pain was an old friend of Percival Graves, and his anger fueled his will to live now as it had so many times before.

His vision returned in hazy, wavering bursts, the numbness fading only slightly as his remaining senses returned one by one. The sun remained high and bright in the sky as allowed his body to rest for another minute, the empty eyes of Antonio staring at him from where the remains lay filling the air with the stink of decomposing flesh. Once he was sure he wasn’t going to have any further adverse effects from the merman’s magical meat, Percival gathered up his meager belongings, carefully maneuvered his raft into the water, and lastly plucked the conch shell off of the rocky ledge as he set sail out onto the open ocean.

Later, he would stumble upon the American coast and make his way into a port on the edges of Nowhere, North Carolina. He would tell them the tragic tale of a sudden storm that destroyed his personal fishing boat, leaving him stranded for days before he washed up on their tiny beach. He would prey upon their despicable charity, accepting fresh clothes and an abundance of food that he found he no longer needed to survive. He would ask to write a series of letters, written in the secret pirate code to avoid investigation and capture, to be delivered in haste to his most loyal followers in New York and his beloved Pirate Queen.

Later he would look into a mirror and gaze in horror at his altered appearance, running his shaking hands through light-colored hair and staring into the reflection of his new bright blue eye.

But all of that would come later.

All of that could wait.

For now, Gellert Grindelwald set out to face his future with his teeth bared in a spiteful grin and a plot for revenge twisting his mind into knots.

‘_I am not afraid of you_! _I am immortal, now, and nothing will be able to stand in my way again!_’


	17. Chapter 17 - The Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: In my universe, Grindelwald is still played by Colin Farrell, just with the blonde hair and mismatched eyes.

The scent of horror and confusion in the air was so potent they could practically taste it on their tongues.

Vinda’s red lips were curled up in a cruel smile, while Graves — no, _Grindelwald _— stood calm and unrepentant in his glorious arrival from the depths of death. One by one from the shadows surrounding the crumbling ruins, men in fading brown trousers and patchwork jackets began to emerge from the fog surrounding the scattered groups of weary, wary travelers. Some of their smiles were on edge, but curious. Others were shamelessly excited, and others itching for a fight.

Newt and Tina gravitated toward each other, each searching for a way to escape with their friends and loved ones unscathed and each coming to the same, chilling conclusion.

“You were right. It’s a trap,” Tina whispered with disdain.

“Yeah. Queenie, the message — it’s all been bait,” Newt confirmed sadly. He glanced around as the rough-edged pawns of the pirate monarchs chuckled among themselves as if telling a silent, inside joke and started moving even further into the ruins to block any available exit paths. Only Grindelwald remained silent and still, his newly mismatched eyes staring directly into Newt’s soul with hatred.

“We have to find a way out of here, right now!” Tina hissed, but Newt knew that it wouldn’t be that easy.

“My brothers, my sisters, my friends—” Grindelwald suddenly said, his voice carrying across the wind with a gentle respect that even his enemies had to admit was charming, “we gather tonight for a very special purpose. We gather today because of a craving and a knowledge that the old laws serve us no longer . . . You come today because you crave something new, something different.”

“What’s he on about now?” Jacob groused, but Queenie’s eyes never strayed from where Vinda and her undead mentor stood side by side.

“For indeed, it is unjust laws, and those that enforce them, that is our true enemy. It is their arrogance, their power lust, their barbarity that prevents us from reaching our full potential!” the Pirate King continued, his voice rising in volume and passion the more he spoke. Tina swallowed as she took in the hunger, the depthless desire in the eyes of those that imprisoned them. These were not just pirates or vagabonds living dishonest lives of greed — no, they were of a breed far more dangerous and powerful.

They were believers.

“Power and magic are reserved for those who live for higher things. Oh, and what a world we could make, for all of humanity, if the world was ours to control. We who live for freedom, for truth —” Grindelwald’s eyes finally shifted, his gaze locking onto Queenie’s wide, dreamy stare. “— and for love.”

“Is that what you’ve promised them? Freedom?” Newt suddenly spoke up, his anger smoldering under his disgust. “_That’s_ the reason you’ve brought us all here? To preach about your delusions?”

“Oh, no, Mister Scamander,” Grindelwald purred. “You are here to serve as an example.”

Vinda chuckled, while Grindelwald turned back to his crew with a much softer tone.

“My friends, I present to you the epitome of our struggle. These slaves of the law are responsible for the deaths of my beloved crew. They struck down strong, honorable men and women for the simple crime of seeking truth, for wanting freedom . . .” His calm frown turned into a vicious snarl, pointing with a flourished hand to where they stood huddled together like weak, blind chicks being hunted by ravenous foxes. “This is the final test! Join me, pledge to me your eternal allegiance, and help me take my righteous vengeance!”

The resulting storm was instantaneous.

Hisses, shouts, and jeers rose from the darkness as sharp daggers and thick sticks were drawn into the open. Bodies rushed at them all at once, and standing weaponless and cold, the targets of Grindelwald’s madness were powerless to stop the onslaught. Thinking quickly, Newt grit his teeth, slammed his suitcase down onto the ground and called forth to his mind the sanctuary of his newest companion. The lid of the case burst open, the roar of the Zouwu drowning out the sounds of angry screams as she ascended into the air with flourishing mane and swishing tail. Newt clambered onto her back and buried his hands into her mane, reigning her thrashing motions in to target the closest attackers he could see in the dark.

Bodies flew into the air, dirt and debris scattered against their ankles, and with a particularly violent swipe of her tail, the Zouwu knocked two flickering torches to the ground. The fire blazed to life as ashes landed onto various boxes and fishing nets strewn about the ruins, turning the cage of stone and timber even more precarious and inescapable. Blades fell to the ground in the scuffle, which Tina and Theseus did not hesitate to retrieve and turn against the bloodthirsty pirates in a practiced act of combat and survival.

“Newt!” Credence tried to break free of Grimmson’s hold from where they stood in the shadows, but the beast hunter was ruthless in his grasp.

“Now, now, little seal,” he murmured deep into Credence’s ear. “I’m going to have to insist that you be quiet.”

Credence heard more than saw Nagini whimper and flinch away from the blade digging into her neck, and he silently cursed every miserable Human loyally serving his former captor as he slumped back in surrender.

He watched as Kama, Leta, and Theseus fought side by side in a blur of steel, fists, and fire, three graceful dancers that pulled and spun one another out of harm's way as they attacked their opponents with quick, purposeful movements. He saw with wide eyes and a clenched heart how the Zouwu cried out in fear and pain as the flames smoldered and spread across the ground, black smoke swallowing the remnants of blue sky until only a veil of darkness remained. Newt was barely holding on, trying and failing to keep the poor creature calm and away from danger.

Jacob and Queenie, meanwhile, were the only targets staying huddled together and frozen — at least, until a gentle voice rang out among the fighting and crackling fires.

“Queenie!” Vinda cried, elegantly stretching out her hand and offering it across the gaping distance between them. “I grant you a pardon from my King’s wrath! Take your lover and run away from here! To safety!”

Jacob shook his head, quickly grabbing Queenie by the shoulders and forcing her to look at him.

“Queenie, baby, you have to snap out of it!” he begged.

But Queenie could barely hear him over the tidal wave of thoughts bombarding her from all sides. She heard the anger and resentment from the pirates, all different shades of the same, desperate misunderstood underclass who had been treated like dirt for their entire lives. She heard their devotion to Grindelwald and his philosophy, the way they revered their King and Queen like the love of children saved from despair by their adopted parents. She heard the violent fury and rejection of her friends and family, and beneath all of that, she heard a soft, soothing memory.

“_When you truly want something, if you feel it is what you are meant to do, then nothing should stand in your way_.”

She knew that Grindelwald was a horrible man, that he had done horrible things to the people she cared about, but she also saw from his followers’ thoughts how truly committed he was to what he preached. She saw how badly he wanted to change the world, how he wanted everyone to be free to do whatever they wanted — to live however they wished without having to worry about anyone else telling them it was wrong. She felt the longing every pirate around her felt for their new lives on Grindelwald’s ship, and she was shocked to find that same longing spreading inside her chest.

“Jacob,” she gasped with newfound clarity, “he’s the answer!”

“No — no, no, no —”

“He wants what we want!” she said, almost giddy with the hope that she had almost allowed to fade into nothing. Finally — _finally _— she had found someone who understood! Someone who would stand by her deepest desire, who wouldn’t tell her that it was an impossible dream that would never come true.

She grabbed Jacob’s hands, pulling him towards where Vinda stood smiling and waiting.

“Walk with me,” she said. But she could still read his hesitation, his doubts, his fear in spite of everything she had done for him. He couldn’t see the bigger picture, the possibilities, the freedom Grindelwald’s influence offered them together.

“No,” Jacob whimpered, pulling his hands away from hers so quickly it almost shattered her resolve.

But she wouldn’t allow him to throw it all away, not when they were so close! She just had to make him understand!

“WALK WITH ME!” she screamed. She tried to show him the unbendable affection she felt for him in her eyes, the desperation she felt all the way into her bones to be with him and have their happily ever after.

But where she had wanted him to see love, his mind saw something else entirely.

“You’re crazy.”

Cold, icy water drenched her blazing determination until only smoldering ashes remained. Where she had once seen beauty, now she saw only fear and weakness. Where he had once been her brave prince slaying dragons for her hand, now only a simpering coward stood before her. He couldn’t — no, _wouldn’t_ do what needed to be done — not now, not ever. He wouldn’t give her what she wanted.

But that didn’t matter. Vinda had taught her that if you really wanted something, you had to take it for yourself.

And she would take the happiness that she was due — no matter the cost.

Queenie’s pleading expression fell away to reveal something dark and resolved. She turned without another word, sprinting away from where Jacob yelled her name and begged her not to go. But she did not bend, would not waiver, and Vinda welcomed her out of the flaming circle with open arms and a proud smile. The two women fled together into the darkness beyond, and Grindelwald was left standing triumphantly alone.

“QUEENIE!” Tina tried to follow her sister, wielding her stolen dagger with the fury of a protective mother dragon. Grindelwald stepped forward from the flames, hands empty and smile frozen in place.

With a ferocious cry, the Nereid plunged the dagger into Grindelwald’s chest and sent shockwaves of horror, grief, and hopeful anticipation through all who witnessed it.

Grindelwald didn’t even flinch.

With a twisted smirk, he pulled his arm back and punched Tina’s shocked face so hard that her body sent a cloud of dust into the air when she hit the ground. Newt’s offended roar almost drowned out the Zouwu’s, and he did not hesitate to leap off of the creature’s back as it charged toward its keeper’s enemy. Grindelwald yanked the dagger out of his chest with the smallest of grimaces, the blade glistening with black blood at the tip. He slashed the dagger at the Zouwu to keep it at bay while Tina scuttled backwards in the dirt to a safer distance.

Newt ran to her side, glaring at Grindelwald through his wild copper locks.

“Always the hero, aren’t you, Mister Scamander?” Grindelwald taunted breathlessly, ducking past the Zouwu’s swiping claws and descending upon his defenseless prey. Newt grabbed at Tina’s arms and dragged her back, desperate to pull her out of harm’s way, but even he was not too proud to deny that it was only by his brother’s skilled reflexes that the dagger never reached its mark.

Theseus had a longer blade at his disposal, which rang out each time it clashed against Grindelwald’s bloodied, smaller weapon. The two men parried and slashed at one another in wild arcs, weaving through the Zouwu’s chaotic footsteps with impressive grace and agility. Leta dashed to Newt’s side, offering Tina her hand and pulling her to her feet before pushing them both towards one of the last remaining breaks inside the circle of fire.

“Run!” the Vampire cried.

Kama and Jacob took her words to heart, taking down the last of the pirates with efficient stabs and poorly-timed kicks before fleeing in the opposite direction that Queenie had disappeared to. Tina followed soon after, though she hesitated at the outer precipice of safety when she realized Newt was not by her side.

Credence realized that Newt was waiting for his brother to defeat his adversary before fleeing for their lives, but the flames were growing ever stronger and more voracious. The Selkie turned to where Nagini stood frozen by terror and despair in her captor’s grip, and when she finally met his gaze, he gestured ever-so subtly to where the fire quickly began to spread around Skender’s unsuspecting back. The light of comprehension broke through her inner turmoil, and once she was certain that Skender was not paying his prize any mind, she ripped her arm away and pushed against his chest with all her might.

The ringmaster went down with a grunt that quickly devolved into tortured screams as the flames consumed his faded clothes and greasy hair.

Credence used the distraction to his advantage, elbowing Grimmson in the face and gritting his teeth against the resulting shocks of pain in his arm. He reached forward to grab Nagini’s trembling hand, pulling her behind him as he ran, ran, _ran _towards Newt as if the magizoologist would disappear into the void forever if he didn’t. He started to call to the wind and rain to heed his pleas for deliverance, to put out the flames of Hell and save those who deserved salvation.

He should have known that evil was more powerful than any magic he could conjure.

It was a tragic misstep, a costly mistake, but there was nothing anybody could have done to prevent it. Theseus lunged at Grindelwald, pushed himself too far, and left his side wide open as he stumbled. Grindelwald saw the opening instantly, recovering from his sidestep to raise his dagger above his head with bloodlust staining his mismatched eyes.

The dagger came down in slow motion. Theseus suddenly flew backward and landed on his back in the dirt. Leta stood in his place, fast enough to save her beloved but not enough to save herself, the sickening sound of steel sinking into flesh echoing across the night sky as the blade stabbed deep into her heart.

Her eyes widened as the spectators around her froze in horror, a single tear sliding down her cheek and a spreading stain of blood staining the front of her dress.

“Leta!” Theseus wailed, but Newt was too stunned to make a sound. The crackling of the flames echoed in bursts of mocking laughter as he watched the edges of Leta’s form begin to crumble away in soft swirls of ash. Theseus stumbled to his feet, no doubt intending to pull Leta’s quickly disappearing body into his arms one last time, but Newt had faced Grindelwald before and recognized the insatiable lust for death and pain in his eyes. The magizoologist grabbed his brother around the chest and pulled him away, fighting against Theseus’ protests and desperate fists as Grindelwald pulled his weapon free and watched his newest victim die with sick, twisted pleasure.

Leta turned her head, her eyes dark and gentle in the glare of the fire as she looked upon their faces for the last time. 

“I love you.”

Newt knew that she meant it for both of them. He was the love that never was, the one that always would have been but could never truly be. Theseus was her one and only, the truest love she had ever felt in her tragic life, and the one she had chosen above all others. They both had their own chambers in her heart, safe and treasured, and even in death, he knew that she did not regret a single moment she had ever spent with them.

Tears burned his eyes as the last of Leta’s form dissolved into nothing, the final end for Vampires, as Newt continued to pull his grieving brother away from where his lover’s ashes fell.

Grindelwald held his weapon up in triumph, moving towards them as if Leta’s brave sacrifice hadn’t even happened.

“One down,” he taunted. Newt bared his teeth in a vicious growl of anger. “Tell me, Mister Scamander…do you think anyone will mourn for you when you’re gone?”

Credence snapped out of his horrified stupor at the pirate’s cold whisper, his heart aching at the sight of Newt’s unshed tears.

How many more people would Newt have to watch die before Grindelwald finally put him out of his misery? How much more suffering would he have to endure while Credence hid in the shadows, too weak and too afraid to confront his past? He knew that Leta’s bravery would have been Newt’s had the Selkie been the one in danger, and he also knew all too well that Grindelwald would not stop his onslaught until all who had humiliated him were dead and burned.

Unless…

‘_I swore I’d never let it happen again_,’ he thought. ‘_I swore I would die first!_’

But…if he didn’t act now, he might lose Newt forever.

Although the magizoologist would certainly mourn for him if he died, Credence knew that his life was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. Newt’s life was far more precious, far more deserving of protection than his own, and it would hurt far more than any tortured end if Newt’s light went out of the world because of Grindelwald’s revenge. Even if they managed to escape the chaos around them, Grindelwald would continue to escape the impossible odds and chase them across the seven seas, hunt them down until none of them were left.

Newt was in danger.

Newt was going to die.

Unless…

‘_I can’t keep running away…_’ he realized. ‘_Newt can’t save me this time. He can’t save himself…but I can save him_.’

“Grindelwald!” he screamed aloud, releasing Nagini’s hand and stepping further into the fire’s glare. The Pirate King’s hand froze in the air, his left brown eye sliding over to stare openly at Credence’s determined face.

“Credence?!” The Selkie could feel Newt’s stunned eyes taking in his sudden appearance with both joy and dread, but he forced himself to stay focused on keeping his expression free of the fear eating away at his gut.

“That’s enough! I know what you really want!”

The dagger was lowered, the eyes grew wider with hunger, and the fear clawed at the bottom of his ribs. But he couldn’t afford to falter now — not when Newt could be saved. All he had to do was be brave, just as Leta had been, and to sacrifice everything for the one he loved…just as Leta had.

“Let them go, let everyone else leave here alive and unharmed, and you can have me instead!” he said, his scarred hands clenched into shaking fists as Newt tried to run towards him.

“Credence, no!” Newt shouted, but his cries were cut short when Grindelwald raised his dagger threateningly, pointedly, in the magizoologist’s direction despite never taking his eyes off where the Selkie stood.

“Do you really mean that, Credence?” Grindelwald asked, his slick voice dripping like poison down Credence’s spine. “Do you know what it is you’re offering?”

“…let everyone leave — Newt, Theseus, _Nagini_ —” He felt more than saw the Maledictus flinch in surprise, but he meant what he demanded. “— all of them, and I’ll give you my pelt willingly. I’ll do everything you say, I’ll never try to run…just let them go!”

“…heh…well, well…I must say I’m impressed, Credence. I wasn’t aware you had it in you,” Grindelwald said with a smirk.

‘_Neither did I_,’ he thought.

Grindelwald stepped back closer to the flames, lowering the dagger to his side and extending his free hand out across the empty chasm between them. Credence swallowed the last of his fears, squared his shoulders, and took a determined step forward - only for Nagini to clasp her hands around one of his own and yank him back to look at her pleading face.

“Credence! Please, no!” she gasped. “He’ll never let you go!”

“I know,” he replied, gently pulling his arm away and giving her the best smile he could conjure. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”

All eyes were on him as he accepted his fate, pushing down all his pain and grief as he walked through walls of fire into Grindelwald’s waiting arms. The pirate reached forward as if to pull him into an embrace, but instead of cold hands on clammy skin, a tight fist grabbed ahold of the pelt around his neck and yanked it away from his body. The magic took hold almost instantly, the looseness of the Selkie’s muscles numbing into the stiffness of a puppet on invisible strings.

He felt sick.

“Come along, Credence. And Mister Scamander?” Grindelwald said, wrapping the pelt around his own shoulders in triumph as Newt looked on with a heart quickly cracking under the strain. “My mercy is extended but once. Stand in my way again, and you won’t be as lucky.”

Credence allowed himself to glance back at his love’s broken expression, trying to convey all of his emotions in the few, fleeting moments he had left.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his legs forcibly pulled along as Grindelwald turned and sauntered off into the night.

“Credence!” Newt reached for him but was forced to let him go as Theseus grabbed his brother around the waist and gently towed him toward the whimpering Zouwu.

The flames closed around them, and with no other choice, the two Scamander brothers helped one another clamor onto the Zouwu’s back. Once they were safely seated, Newt reached down to where Nagini stood shaking and crying with her hand clutched tightly to her left shoulder. They helped her to join them on the Zouwu’s back, and after Newt had handed Theseus his suitcase for safe keeping, he guided the Zouwu in the direction of their friends’ escape. With a gentle nudge and comforting whisper in her ear, the mighty beast leapt over the columns of fire and limestone and into the clean open air to freedom. Newt allowed her to run, burying his face into her wild mane as the tears fell freely down his cheeks.

How could everything go so wrong? How could he have failed so spectacularly in such a short amount of time?

Leta was dead.

Credence was gone.

Queenie was lost.

The Zouwu huffed and puffed as she carefully landed back on the solid ground and allowed her passengers to slide down onto weak feet and shaking legs. In spite of all the chaos she’s endured, she still nudged at Newt’s back and rubbed her face against his body with affection as he wiped the tears from his face. He tried the best he could to respond, to run his fingers through her mane as a reward for helping him so well in his time of need, and yet his entire body felt numb to the core. The gentle chime of a bell echoed through the silence, and when he was finally able to escape the curtains of fur around him, Newt saw Tina standing strong as stone with the Zouwu’s favorite toy jingling in her hand.

Her smile was shy, her eyes were wet with sympathy and understanding, and she politely turned and led the Zouwu away to give the brothers the privacy they needed so desperately.

Theseus’s breath came in short, wet bursts. Their eyes locked, the weight of their losses came crashing down upon their shoulders, and after struggling to find the proper words to comfort his brother, Newt realized that there was nothing he _could_ say. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his older brother for the first time in years, almost collapsing under their shared grief.

“I’m so sorry, Theseus,” he wept.

Together they cried, silent and adrift, until Theseus cleared his throat and nodded into Newt’s shoulder. Once they stepped away from one another, they looked over to where Tina, Jacob, Kama, and Nagini all stood huddled together in the cold of the starless night sky. Newt realized with a pang that they had each lost someone close to them in that hellfire — a sister, a lover, and a friend all by varying degrees. Now they were all stranded with bounties on their heads and a desire for vengeance against the evil forces that had snatched their happiness right from their fingertips.

Grindelwald had to be stopped. He had to pay.

And Credence and Queenie needed to be rescued before he could cause any more damage.

“We need to get help,” Newt decided. Tina glanced at him with her arms folded over her chest and a skeptical raise of her brow.

“From who?” she demanded softly. “Grindelwald’s evaded every naval force in the world for years. He was right under our noses this whole time, both as Captain Graves and as a _corpse_! Who could possibly help us catch him now?”

Newt turned to look at his brother, whose expression twisted with dread and realization.

“You can’t be serious,” he said, shaking his head when Newt didn’t look away. “Newt, you know how he is! He can’t be trusted!”

“He’s the only one who can stand up to Grindelwald and you know it, Theseus.”

“Who?” Jacob spoke up, and while Theseus continued to shake his head in exasperated denial, Newt grabbed his suitcase off the ground and made his choice.

“One of my old professors, and Grindelwald’s most powerful enemy…Albus Dumbledore.”


End file.
